Of course. “Cats aren’t as affectionate, and they’re very opinionated.”
She gasped. “They are not. They just know what they like and what they want to do. So stereotypical to assume all cats aren’t affectionate. I’ll have you know, Maisie is the perfect mix of independent and loving.”
When the waiter dropped off our burrata, she pulled the plate closer to her. “And just for that, I’ll enjoy this deliciousness all by myself.”
I laughed and snagged a piece of crispy prosciutto to pop into my mouth. She covered the plate with her hand and gave me an arched glare.
“You know, I did share my fries with you the other night.”
“So maybe you’re just that much nicer than me,” she responded, cutting a piece of the cheese and spreading it on a piece of grilled sourdough, before taking a bite. Then she groaned. “Wow, this is delicious.”
Her soft groan made my stomach clench. How long would I have to wait before I could kiss her again?
Chapter 6
DANI
My cheeks hurt from all the laughing and smiling through our date. Gabe was really… just…nice,not smooth or suspiciously charming. It felt like he was exactly who he said he was.
But I was still on edge and questioning everything. I didn’t want to be blinded again like I’d been with Roger. He’d definitely soured me. Even though I wasn’t going to date Gabe anyway, my judgment about men had obviously been on the fritz and who knew if it was back.
We’d gone through our twenty questions, and I’d discovered he had three sisters and was from Seattle. He obviously loved dogs and his family, and he’d started skating when he could barely walk. His list of goalie quirks and routines was extensive, but that was typical. My father never really talked about his routines and rituals, but I’d watched him since before Mal was born until he’d retired, so I was very aware of weird goalies.
Of course, now his only current quirk was that he was an asshole on so many levels. He was still regularly texting me about dinner, but I had zero plans to do that.
“What are we getting for dessert?” Gabe asked.
“Definitely the olive oil cake with lemon curd.”
“Is there something else you’d recommend?” he asked. “What’s your second favorite?”
“Why? You don’t like lemon and want me to share dessert with you?”
He grinned. “I would never assume. No, I figure we can get your two favorites and then share them both.”
Was he for real? I sat back. “Oh, I like that plan. Why are you so nice?”
“What?” he asked, tilting his head back at me.
I waved my hand in front of him. “You’re just, well, not a dick.”
He barked out a laugh. “Uh, thanks for that. Also, how low are your standards?”
My body tensed.
“Sorry, that was rude of me.” His mouth did this little half-smile, like he felt guilty, and it was totally endearing. And it was throwing me off-balance.
“It was, but I do seem to have a history of picking the wrong guys to date lately, which is probably why I prefer being single.”
“There are nice guys out there, the opposite of Jensen.”
“I guess.” I paused to take a sip of my second glass of wine. He’d stuck to only one and then switched to club soda and lime.
“Can I interest you in dessert?” the waiter asked, saving me from having to continue our awkward conversation.
“Yes, thanks. The olive oil cake and the cannoli duo, please,” I said.
The waiter nodded and walked away, and I focused on Gabe again, hoping he wouldn’t continue the talk about my lowstandards. Hell, he was irritatingly correct, I did have awful taste these days. Probably stemmed from having a shitty father.
