Page 34 of Sinful Promises
He shrugged and did that cute scrunch of his nose. That was a gotta-see-it moment right there.
I put my hand in the air. “Righty-ho, guys. Follow me.”
From the clock, we cruised along a couple of the quaint cobblestone streets to the Jewish quarter, and finally back to the Old Town, where I led them down a narrow lane and to the entrance of a tavern that’d been serving beer since the fifteenth century.
As I guided my group down a dark set of stairs that took us underground, we passed a candle that had what was probably two centuries’ worth of wax around it.
Entering this tavern was like entering a scene from Game of Thrones. The room itself was dome-shaped like an underground bunker. Candles dotted every table and glowed from ancient medieval candelabras dangling from the ceiling. They provided just enough filtered light for us to see.
As I directed my group to two long, pre-booked tables, I tried to ignore the glares from the other ten or so diners who were here before us. The poor buggers were likely having a nice, relatively quiet meal until we arrived.
Fortunately, the staff were so organized I didn’t need to do much more. Roman and I sat side by side, our thighs wedged together in a way that was fast becoming my favorite position. The beer and cider flowed, compliments of the unlimited beverages package that Vacation Dreamz offered, and our meal orders were taken.
To get us fed and out of the restaurant as quickly as possible, there were only four meal choices. I’d tried them all. The food was, in my opinion, light on flavor but massive in quantity. The pork knuckle alone was an eye-opener. It was about the size of a child’s head and required an extra-large plate to accommodate the meat and the generous quantity of mashed potato.
I tried to explain to Roman how big the pork meal was, but he still chose it. I couldn’t wait to see his expression when it arrived.
My choice was the same one I’d had on my last twenty or so visits—the vegetarian option. Pumpkin ravioli in a creamy cheese sauce.
As quickly as my backpackers drained their drinks, the scantily clad waitresses filled them again. The food was just as quick, and within twenty minutes of us sitting, the meals began arriving.
Roman just about fell off his chair at the sight of his pork knuckle. He eyeballed the meal then grinned at me. “Holy shit. I’m never going to eat all that.”
I nudged my shoulder to his. “I told you.”
Standing, I raised my chunky beer glass and tapped it with my knife to attract everyone’s attention. “Quiet down, you lot.” They took a bit to be hushed, and I was sure the silence was a relief to the four patrons still seated at the other tables. “Just a quick reminder that this is the last stop for today’s tour. So, after this you’re on your own. Try not to get lost. Or arrested.” I pointed at Tom, the Aussie footballer whose reputed idea of fun was streaking naked up the main street. Not that he’d done it on my shift . . . yet.
He saluted me with a wink. “Yes, boss.”
I waited until him and his mates settled their laughter down a touch. “The good news is tomorrow you can have a bit of a sleep in because you don’t need to be on the bus until eleven.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Paula hollered, and a few of the men agreed.
“Okay, so let’s toast.” I raised my beer glass. “To travel and exploring and getting pissed.”
They cheered, gulped at their beers, and then settled right back into a ruckus that made the restaurant sound like there were a thousand people crammed into the tiny room.
Roman tucked into his pork, and by the expression on his face, he was enjoying it. My ravioli was a bit too soft and a bit too bland, but I was hungry so I soldiered on.
“Would you like to try some?” Roman held his fork toward me with some meat on it.
It was such a simple, innocent offer, but my bloody heart galloped like he’d offered to lick chocolate off my tits. I curled my lips through my teeth, and trying to simmer my outrageous thoughts, I said, “Yes please,” and opened my mouth.
That was a new first for me.
And what a glorious thing it was watching him study my lips as he placed the food onto my tongue. The way my damn body was twitching all over the place, it was like it was just the two of us sharing this moment.
He returned to his meal, slicing a chunk of meat off the bone.
Clearly, the earth hadn’t moved for him.
I returned to my meal, but with my next mouthful it occurred to me that I should offer him some of my ravioli. Splitting a ravioli pillow in half, I scooped it up with some of the rich cheese sauce and held it toward him. “Your turn. Want some?”
“Sure.” He opened his mouth. I pushed it in, and he smiled at me and licked his lips.
We just had a moment.
At least . . . I think we had a moment.