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I didn’t mean he should throw himself into the next.
The waiter returns with our wine and appetizers, and Brandon immediately starts arranging the plates between us, creating a little buffet.
I take a sip of the wine first, letting it linger on my tongue before swallowing. Delicious and rich, a welcome distraction.
Brandon smirks, rolling up his sleeve in that devil-may-care attitude that makes my pulse race faster. “Try this.” He places a piece of calamari on my plate. “Elliot’s changed his recipe. Added some lemon zest to the breading.”
The way he looks at me… it’s like he’s undressing me with his gaze, peeling back every carefully constructed layer until I’m laid bare before him.
It’s unnerving. Exhilarating. Terrifying.
I pick up the calamari, examining it. The crust is light, golden-brown, perfectly crispy. My stomach doesn’t revolt. Maybe it’s because Brandon’s here.
I take a bite. Salt and pepper collide with that hint of lemon he mentioned. It’s… good. Really good.
“Well?”
“It’s good.” I take another bite.
“Good.” He grabs one himself. “What about you? Any juicy accounting scandals I should know about?”
“Oh, tons. You know us accountants, always living on the edge.”
“I don’t know.” His voice drops, low and suggestive. “I can think of a few ways you like to live on the edge.”
Our food arrives, and I’m grateful and horrified for the distraction. The burger looks amazing.
And I’m not terrified.
I pick it up, turning it in my hands. It looks delicious. I take a bite, and flavors explode across my tongue. The meat is perfectly cooked, juicy, and seasoned just right.
It is delicious.
Brandon watches me, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips. “Good?”
I nod, covering my mouth with my napkin as I chew.
One bite after another. No rushing.
Half the burger’s gone before I set it down, my stomach starting to protest the richness of it all. I’m not used to this kind of food.
But I did it.
A smile sneaks its way on my lips.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I just need a moment.”
“Then leave it.” He reaches across the table, but stops short of touching me, before resuming with his own food. “Don’t force it down.”
I nod.
“Elliot really outdid himself with this one.” He pushes around a fry absently while I try to gather myself. “You know, I had something similar planned for my menu… different sauce though. I was gonna do this thing with caramelized onions and?—”
My chest constricts at the pain flashing across his face. “Brandon?”
“More wine?” He grabs the bottle, filling our glasses without waiting for my response, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.