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“Anything else?”

He shrugged, and I parked close to the side door of Magpies.

“What do you like to drink?” I asked when it didn’t appear he had anything else to say.

“I’m kind of picky about beer, and I don’t like the normal stuff. I like peach screwdrivers. Peach brandy. Not daiquiris though, because I don’t care for rum. I won’t do tequila shots, but I’ll drink a margarita sometimes.”

“Dark beer? Light beer?”

“Oh, I like Belgian White, but not everyone has it.”

Interesting. I’d expected some run-of-the-mill light or blond beer, and he’d come up with something intriguing.

“Any food allergies?”

“No, Sir.”

“Any other allergies?”

“I have some fabric allergies. A handful of synthetic fabrics. I’m safe with cotton, usually, but I always wash anything new before I wear it. Also, the chemicals in some sofas bother me, so I don’t sit on cloth furniture with shorts on, or without a shirt. I use dye-free and perfume-free laundry detergent, and I’m careful about soaps and lotions.”

“Good to know. I’m guessing latex is a problem?”

His face blazed red, completely adorable, but he met my gaze and said, “Yes, Sir. I have non-latex condoms, but not with me at the moment.”

“Well, depending on how dinner goes, we might need to make a stop on the way home.”

Chapter 2

Davy

My track record with men sucks, but Bash seemed to think it was okay for me to go with Will, and I trusted him to warn me if I was making a mistake. I work for the bikers, I’m not one of them, but they look out for me.

Still, it seemed too good to be true that this godlike man who was obviously filthy rich was interested in me. I was a little worried he didn’t want to tell me what he does for a living yet, but I was pretty sure Bash would’ve warned me if he did something illegal.

Will seemed bigger than life, like he wasn’t real, or rather, too good to be true. Like some big Hollywood star trying to be normal.

Someone opened the restaurant door for us as we approached, walked us in without small talk, sat us at a table, and Will told him, “Your best Belgian White beer for Davy here, and I’ll have a Murphy’s Irish Stout. We’ll start with the gougères, and some peach and goat cheese tartines.”

Usually, you don’t give the person who seats you your order, but this man nodded and told him he’d be right back with our drinks.

“I take it they know you here?”

“I know the owner. She makes sure I’m taken care of.”

A man was standing kind of against a wall, so he could see us in his peripheral vision, but he seemed to just be watching the rest of the restaurant. I could see other customers, but Will’s back was to the restaurant so he couldn’t see anyone.

I ignored them and told Will, “I appreciate you ordering something with peaches for me. Is there a menu?”

“There is, but I figure we’ll have steaks. Let me feed you, Davy. How do you like your steak cooked?”

“Medium, but that means I order it medium-well because they never cook it enough if you just say medium. I like a little pink, but not red.”

“In about thirty minutes, possibly as long as an hour, but no longer than that, I’m going to tell you my secret, and you’re going to tell me yours. A big secret, and don’t say you don’t have one because I can tell you do. Meanwhile, tell me your biggest relationship fantasy — the power exchange dynamic, or a specific act you’ve never felt close enough to someone to actually play out, or something else. The topic for now is big things, though, so make it good. You first, and then I’ll go. You get to decide the next topic, and then I’ll go first.”

Did I dare tell him my hopes and dreams? I mean, if it turned him off, he may as well take me home, right? It seemed a no-brainer to tell him, but I was still reticent.

But Bubbles had taught me to answer questions without waffling, so I did my best.