Page 49 of My Forbidden Boss
I gently lowered my salad fork to the plate in front of me and held up my hands.
“It’s not.”
“It is!”
“No, it isn’t!”
He sat, staring at me over the rim of his glass.
“Am I that repulsive to you?”
I almost bought it, but his eyes betrayed the mirth hiding behind his words.
He wasn’t. Not in the least. On the contrary, I was having trouble stopping myself from eyeballing around his collar, over the breadth of his shoulders, down his arms, and over his chest. ‘Handsome’ was too bland. ‘Dapper’ seemed too haughty now that I had glimpsed a softer side, a quiet shadow hard to notice behind his hulking confidence.
I shook my head, disbelieving his audacity, then realized as his merriment seemed to grow that I was kind of answering his question.
I nodded up and down with assured commitment. “Yes. You are a despicable human being, and I’m ashamed to even be sitting here with you, no matter how incredible the wine may be… and don’t even get me started again on the view. How did you find this place?”
When I had suggestively teased that Hollis should consider it a requirement to take me somewhere fancy, what lay around us wasn’t in the least what I had in mind. Almost all restaurants, above a certain level, of course, were essentially the same, with just a couple of differences: style, location, decor, menu… That was something I already knew, but one that I had to re-evaluate, especially now that I had seen where Hollis had decided to bring me.
It was indeed upscale, but more in a Tuscan villa sort of way than a Manhattan black hole for table reservations. The building was of simple, clean stone, in a small space with acres of land surrounding. We were taken directly to the rear, never seeing a single table in our path. Emerging onto the rear patio, the mountain glens could be seen wrapping around from either side, perfectly framing the heights of the Wyoming Rockies, their peaks burning rose and violet in the dying daylight.
Hollis shrugged. “Oh, you know… I guess it just comes with the territory. I am supposed to be an expert in restaurants, after all.”
My eyebrows arched as I sniffed and sipped, loving the way the white wine’s bouquet seemed to come alive with all the floral flavors and earthy richness of the scenery alive around us.
“Supposed to be… Keywords there…”
Hollis grinned good-naturedly. “Being an expert is measured in experience. If you think about it that way, I guess you could almost consider this a field trip for me.”
I snorted softly, then thought to myself, wondering when I had started to find the allusions to us working amusing. I shrugged the question away, too comfortable and content to be bothered by such a sour notion.
I looked over our little table, perfectly situated to take in the entirety of the view around us. More outstanding to me was the privacy, set up in such a way that not one single other patron or their table could be observed from where we sat. Every once in a while, you could tell they were there, just barely hearing the quiet clinking of silverware or the muffled conversation further down the patio, obscured by the carefully-manicured shrubberies and ornamental grasses, annual herbs, and edible microgreens.
It was like dining in our own private garden, watching the clear blue sky turn a brilliant hue of orange, while the sunset behind the mountains brought the deep purples of dusk.
“Miss, may I remove your dish?”
The staff appeared silently as phantoms, carefully placing each course’s array of utensils and wine glasses for fresh pairings. Then they would disappear back out of sight, only emerging again the moment before you realized you’d appreciate their attention.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Thank you so much… That was terrific.”
One hand removed a plate or bowl, and the other replaced it with another, freshly prepared.
I waited till the staff silently retreated, then whispered urgently to Hollis after our fourth procession of ornate dishes.
“Hey! How many courses did you order for us?”
He leaned forward, tilting an ear inquisitively.
“I said, ‘How many more courses are there?’”
Again, he leaned forward, closer around the table, thumbing a finger to bend his ear like a radar dish my way. I thought he must be joking, but his face was straight and unsmiling.
In a normal voice, I repeated myself for a third time, asking if I was being fattened up for slaughter. Still, Hollis edged closer, even rotating his chair farther around and bringing it to rest directly adjacent to mine. With his cheek tilted toward me, close enough to kiss, I exhaled a murmur of doubt and leaned into his ear.
“I said…”