Page 14 of Strawberry Cake
“Did she ever get hers covered?”
“I’m not sure. But even if she had, it would’ve been torture for her.” He tilted his head to mirror her curious gaze and grabbed an appetiser. “I would have thought you’d be upset.”
“I think it mayhave been a little cruel. But then again you gave her every chance to back out, so she made her bed.”
Their sides came and with it, the first round of steaks. Hope tried a little bit of everything, taking seconds from whatever she liked the most. Decan sat back and watched, amused. Hope’s mind-blowing realisation as she tasted the different meats was a sight for sore eyes. She admitted to not having gone to fancy restaurants before, so she was genuinely enjoying and soaking up the experience.
“What about you?” he asked when Hope finally came up for air.
She grabbed for her wine and took a sip. “What about me?”
“Any crazy ex boyfriend stories?”
She placed her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her knuckles, and stared at something behind him. “Nothingthatcrazy, the usual ‘we weren’t a good match talk’ and then it typically just ended.”
“Why didn’t it fit?”
“Either we had different ambitions or were at different stages in life. If one always wants to party and get drunk and the other is perfectly fine staying at home and cooking dinner together, it won’t last long.”
“Are you a good cook?”
“I try. Do you cook?”
“Mmhmm. I meal prep a couple times a week.”
When she was done and set her cutlery aside, Decan picked up the dessert menu and ordered for himself, which seemed to encourage her to do the same. He loved how she didn’t hide how much she’d enjoyed her food. Women tended to be embarrassed for the amount they could eat, but not Hope.
When the check came, she tried to hide her shock at the bill, but he grinned at her and set his card down. “Remember your rules. My choice, my treat.”
She blushed, worrying her bottom lip. “I know.”
Hope walked by his side out of the restaurant, her fingertips absentmindedly twisting a loose strand of his hair on his neck. He wasn’t sure his liquified insides would ever recover. Hope opened the door without a second thought and fell back into step next to him, her fingers drawing mandalas on his neck until they reached the car. While he handled his chair, Hope took her seat and patiently waited for him to join her.
“So, when’s our next date?” she chirped as he started the engine.
“This one isn’t even over yet,” he laughed.
“Would you rather I pray for it to end and never call you again?”
“I think that would leave me quite shattered,” he admitted, grinning in her direction. “Didn’t you say you liked cooking?”
“I did.”
“Maybe you can come over next time for dinner?”
Hope shifted to face him, reaching for that loose strand of hair again. “I like that idea,” she whispered, twirling the lock around her finger.
Decan couldn’t help but hum at the pleasant sensation. “And I might keep my hair down next time too.”
“I do enjoy playing with it,” she said with a smile that made his stomach flip. Hope rested her head back and watched him drive through the city, her fingers curling his hair around them the whole way.
Once on the highway, he put on the cruise control and laid his hand on her thigh. With him having to use hand controls instead of foot pedals, simple gestures like this were difficult to show.
“I might fall into a food coma,” she finally said, suppressing a yawn.
“Don’t forget to set your alarm first. I would rather not have you remember me for making you miss work.”
“There’s so many other things to remember this date by.” Her hand found his, her thumb brushing his knuckles. “The whole having your ex’s name tattooed on you for example.”