Dimitri took his seat and put his back over to the side of the table. The title wasThe Book Thief, and it was the same book that made me ugly cry while drinking wine in my recliner when I read it last year.
I pointed to it. "It's one of my favorites."
"Mine too. This is my second read-through of it. There aren't a lot of books out there with the German point of view." His voice was low, rumbly, and slightly accented. The sound of it made my toes curl.
Calm down, Maron, I told myself. There was a lot more to a person than outward appearances. And good taste in books. And clothes. And smelling good.
"I hope you like red," Dimitri said. "The waitress came over a little early so I took the liberty of ordering a bottle."
Hmm. Small strike. I liked to pick my own drink. "No problem," I said instead. I could feel a goofy little smile hovering over my lips.
"Have you been here before?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Surprisingly, no. I tend to frequent a few restaurants and don't often venture to the edge of town."
His gaze kept flicking over to a place behind me and a furrow started in his brow. "Do you know the couple over there?" he asked. "The man keeps looking over here."
"Nope," I said without bothering to look. He had to be talking about Sterling.
He gave me a curious look. "Must be that incredible dress you're wearing," he said. "It's very Mad Men."
"Without the sexism and secondhand smoke," I quipped.
Dimitri didn't laugh. Gracious. Please let him have a sense of humor, I prayed. Don't make him pretty and oblivious to social cues.
"Mad Men is pretty misogynistic," he said after a moment.
I blinked at him. "Really?"
He nodded. "Don't you think?"
"I do... think. But I've never heard another man say something like that."
Dimitri shrugged and turned his attention to the menu. "It's the truth. It was a good show and was spot on with the time period, but I don't think anyone can argue that we've made a lot of strides since then."
I let out a strangled laugh. Who was this guy? "I agree." I picked up my menu and started looking through it. We were at a small French bistro. I already couldn't remember the name of it, but the food looked really good. I chose a French onion soup and a vegetarian version of Quiche Lorraine. When the waitress came back over and I rattled off my order, I could feel Dimitri's gaze on me.
"So it's true, then," he said when she was finished taking our order.
"What's true?" I asked as I picked my wine glass.
"You truly do not consume blood?"
He read the info pack. Dimitri was redeeming himself here. Big time. "I don't need to," I said.
His eyes gleamed with interest. "Never?"
I shook my head. "Never."
"What does your family think about it?"
I took a long sip of wine and set my glass down. "What doyouthink they think about it?"
"Mmm," he said. "I think the differences in us are what distinguish everyone."
"And you?" I asked. "What distinguishes you?"
A crooked smile appeared on his mouth and there was a dimple. A dimple! How had this man lived in Midnight Cove and not had an entourage of screaming fangirls following him everywhere?
