Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He gives me a stern look. “Ava, order whatever you’d like.”
“That is what I’d like, Brendan.”
He narrows his gaze, looking even sterner. “If you could order anything on this menu, what would it be?”
I look down. I do like vegetables, and I’d enjoy the vegetable linguine. But if I’m being honest… “The grilled Rocky Mountain trout. With the lobster risotto.”
“Then that is what you’ll have,” Brendan says. “And I am going to have the New York strip, rare.”
I lean toward him, lowering my voice. “It’s probably our beef. You can come eat dinner at my house and have it for free.”
He laughs. “You’re not getting it, are you? I want to take my lady out. I want to pay for a nice dinner. I don’t care that I can get the wine and beef for free if I eat with your family, and I’m not interested in what this will cost. I want to treat you to dinner at a nice place because I love you.”
My cheeks warm once more. “Okay, Brendan. But next time, I treat.”
He smiles. “Absolutely. I am fine with that.”
Adrian returns with our drinks.
“Hmm,” I say. “This looks different from the pink squirrel you made for me.”
“Probably because I had to improvise that night. The drink calls for heavy cream, which I didn’t have, so I used melted vanilla ice cream.”
This pink squirrel is in a martini glass, with pink-tinted granulated sugar—I assume—around the edges. The drink itself is a lighter pink than Brendan’s.
“Is that why it’s a lighter pink?”
“Probably not,” he says. “Most likely they used a little less crème de noyaux.”
Adrian clears his throat. “Can I get you anything for an appetizer?”
“Yes,” Brendan says. “I would like the tuna tartare. Ava, what would you like?”
“Can I just share yours?”
“If that’s what you’d like,” he says.
I look down. I’ve got to stop this. I don’t want to insult Brendan. If he truly wants to treat me, I need to let him and stop worrying about the cost. I look up then, meeting Adrian’s gaze. “I’ll have the calamari.”
“Very good. Are you ready to order your dinners now?”
“We are,” Brendan says. “The lady will have the Rocky Mountain trout with the lobster risotto, along with a green salad.”
“Is the house vinaigrette all right?” Adrian asks me.
“Yes, that would be perfect.”
“And I will have the New York strip, rare, with a baked potato, loaded. And broccoli.”
“Wonderful. I’ll get these orders in. Your appetizers should be out soon. Would you like wine with dinner?”
Brendan looks to me.
“No, thank you,” I say. “I think I’ll stick with my drink and then water with dinner.”
“I’ll have another bourbon with my dinner,” Brendan says.
“Very good. Thank you.” Adrian whisks away again.
“So?” Brendan points to my drink.
I smile and pick up the pink squirrel, swirl it around in the glass a little, watching as the creamy pink sticks to the glass. Then I taste it. It’s creamy, for sure, and I let it flow over my tongue and coat my mouth.
“Does it rival mine?” he says.
I lick the cream from my bottom lip. “It’s… It doesn’t taste as…pink as yours did.”
He chuckles. “It doesn’t?”
“It’s not as sweet, I think? I don’t know. It’s good. Not as good as yours, but I like it. You want to taste it?”
“Not even a little bit, Ava.” He laughs and takes a drink of his bourbon. “So…last night Pat Lamone came to the bar.”
I lift my eyebrows.
“Apparently, his grandmother—your grandmother—is no longer at the hospital.”
I part my lips, and some of the pink squirrel dribbles onto my chin. I hastily wipe it away with my napkin.
“What?”
“Yeah. He went to see her last night to get answers to some questions.”
“How did he expect to get answers from a woman who’s in a medically induced coma?”
“I don’t know that he was actually looking for answers, Ava. I think…”
“What aren’t you telling me, Brendan?”
“I will tell you everything, but I wanted to let you know that your grandmother is no longer in the hospital. I don’t know where she is, but I’m sure your father can find out.”
“I’m honestly not sure my father wants to know.”
“Who could blame him?” Brendan takes another sip. “But I thought maybe we should talk to him.”
“I saw him last night. I was exhausted, and I wanted to spend the night in my old room.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I was a mess. But my mom talked me out of it, said I’d be too tired in the morning to make the drive to the bakery on time. She was probably right.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “That sounds odd, coming from your mother. If you were tired, she should have wanted you to stay.”
“Right? It was weird, but that’s not the main thing I want to tell you. I was talking to my mom about the future lawmakers club, and she gave me this.” I grab my purse and pull out my grandfather’s future lawmakers ring.