Page 15 of On Tap for the Bear
"I'm doing research." The words come out more defensive than I intended. "For the article. Thought I should try dinner, get a fuller sense of the menu."
"Right. Research." His mouth quirks up at one corner. "What can I get you?"
I should order something safe. Something that won't matter if I can't taste it. But instead I hear myself say, "What do you recommend?"
"Honestly? The special tonight is pan-seared salmon with lemon-dill butter and roasted vegetables. My brother Beau is a better cook than he has any right to be. But...” He pauses, studying me. "If you want my recommendation, try the mushroom risotto. We make it with wild mushrooms foraged from the hills, and I use one of our IPAs in the cooking liquid."
"The stout from lunch?"
"Different one. Darker, richer. It adds depth without overpowering the mushrooms."
He's looking at me like he knows a secret I don't, and I hate it. Hate the way my heart is beating faster, hate the way I'm leaning forward slightly, hate the way I want to know what he's thinking.
"I'll try the risotto," I say.
"Good choice. What about drinks?"
Water would be smart. Professional. Safe.
"Do you have any more of that honey-lavender?"
His eyes light up. "I do. You liked it?"
Likeddoesn't even begin to cover it. That beer might be the only thing I've truly tasted in three days, and I need to know if it will happen again. Need to know if I imagined the whole thing, or if there's really something about his beer—about him—that makes my broken palate wake up.
"I thought it was delicious," I say carefully. "I'd like to try it again."
"Coming right up."
He pours the beer with the same careful attention I remember from lunch, sets it in front of me, and waits.
I pick up the glass. Bring it to my lips. Take a sip.
And there it is.
Honey and lavender and warmth underneath, a taste like safety and home and relief all at once. My eyes close involuntarily, and I have to fight not to make a sound.
When I open them, Eli is watching me with an expression I can't name. Intense and hopeful and almost hungry, but not in any way that makes me uncomfortable. More like he's waiting for confirmation of a truth he already suspects.
"Good?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. "Really good."
He nods slowly, like I've just confirmed a theory he's been testing. "Your food will be up in about fifteen minutes. You want to sit at the bar or take a table?"
A table would be safer. More distance, less intimacy, less chance of whatever this is becoming more than it should.
"The bar is fine."
His smile is small but genuine. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."
And as I settle onto the stool, as the beer warms my throat and brings my taste buds back to life, as Eli moves behind the bar with casual grace, I realize I'm in trouble. I didn't come back here for research—I came back for him. He glances over, catches me staring, and smiles, and I know I'm completely screwed.
CHAPTER 5
ELI
Iknew she'd come back.
