We were at The Cow Farm, which was the best steak restaurant in Salt Springs. Linen table cloths, the soft glow of candles. We were tucked away in a booth in a corner of the restaurant.
Way too romantic for Not-a-Date.
“We should have gone to the pub or the diner.”
“You wanted rare steak,” he pointed out. “This is the best place to get it outside of Denver, if you ask my opinion.”
“We should talk business,” I said. “If I’m talking business I can’t think of this as a date. Because it’s not one.”
“I sold ten trees today.”
I frowned. “You already told me that. And now I’m annoyed you didn’t sell any more after you left me.”
“Had to take a shower, put on some actual clothes, fancy shoes.”
The restaurant wasn’t exactly formal, but he would have been out of place in his typical flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. I wanted to mention how handsome he looked in his black slacks and charcoal gray sweater, but that felt too…personal.
Yeah, Kristen, because when you had his dick in your mouth, that wasn’t personal at all.
I flashed back to the sounds he’d made while I was sucking him and squirmed in my chair.
Focus!
I was wearing a simple black cocktail dress, and I’d pulled my hair back into a tight bun at the base of my neck. It was my serious businesswoman dinner outfit, and I thought it would help to remind me that this was not a romantic dinner out at a lovely restaurant with a man I’d engaged in super-hot sex with the night before.
No, this was definitely not that.
He had the menu open in front of him and was studying his options.
I already knew what I was having. The five ounce petite filet mignon. Rare.
“What do you think about sharing some family plates?” he asked me. “We could get some asparagus or mashed potatoes. I hear the creamed spinach is excellent.”
“I don’t think we should share plates,” I suggested. “That’s a very couple-like thing to do. I share my food with you, you share your food with me. Things get messy. Lines get blurred.”
“These plates are designed to be shared though,” he said.
“I know, but I’m really trying to keep things as uncomplicated as possible.”
“And ordering a shared plate is the thing that’s going to tip you over the edge? Not when I had you on your knees and was plowing you from behind?”
I practically growled at him and all he did was laugh.
“Paul, this is serious. I did not come home to have some type of entanglement. I need to be focused on my father, focused on the inn, and focused on figuring out what my next move is going to be professionally.”
“That’s a lot of focusing.”
“I know!”
“Kay-Kay, relax. This is just dinner. I already told you that. We’re talking about stuffing ourselves with too much food and wine and not worrying about anything else. That’s why I asked you to come in the first place. Have you ever just had a night off, not worrying about anything?”
I considered the last twelve or so years of my professional life. “No, not really.”
“Hmm.”
“What?” I cocked my head to the side, hearing the undertone of judgment in his voice. “Is this the part where you tell me I’ve let work consume me for too long? That the stress is eating away at me from the inside? Well, guess what? I love the stress. I eat stress for breakfast and wash it down with black coffee. Solving problems is what I do. It is who I am.”
“Kay-Kay…”
