Broken Course (Wrecked and Ruined #3)(75)

"WOW. THIS place is gorgeous," I say as we walk into a stunning restaurant that overlooks the beach.

"See, aren’t you glad I talked you into getting a new dress?" He smiles, resting a hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the ma?tre d’. "Leo James. We have reservations," he tells the older gentleman, who leads us to a table right by the large bay windows.

"I feel like we’re eating on the beach," I tell Leo as he pulls out my chair.

"I think that’s the idea, ángel."

The menus are placed in front of us and I begin studying the entrées as Leo orders a bottle of wine.

Growing up in Savannah, I was exposed to every possible seafood you can imagine. I loved it all. Fresh shrimp and fish are some things I’ve missed while living in Chicago. As my eyes race over the menu, my stomach lets out an audible growl.

"You hungry?" he jokes.

"Well, I didn’t think I was, but the sight of this seafood section has changed my mind." I glance up to find his menu closed and resting on the table in front of him. His smoldering eyes are locked on me. "You already know what you’re getting?" I ask curiously, wondering how the hell he could have possibly decided that fast.

"How about you just order two meals and we can share? I think you are frothing at the mouth." He laughs.

"It all just looks really good." I go back to reading the menu and moan when my eyes find shrimp with truffled grits.

"I can tell." He laughs again, reaching out to hold my hand.

"Okay, it’s decided. You are getting the salmon and scallops because they are calling my name. And I’m getting the shrimp and grits because what kind of Southern girl would I be if I didn’t?" I look up to find him watching me intently once again.

"Whatever you want, ángel." He interlocks our fingers and rests them on the table.

The waiter shows up with the wine, but Leo never releases my hand. We fall into comfortable conversation with his thumb lazily stroking mine.

When dinner arrives, I have to fight my hand out of his grasp. Just as I suspected, the food is amazing. It isn’t until I am halfway done with the grits that Leo informs me that he doesn’t like salmon or scallops. I want to be annoyed with him for not having told me before I ordered, but he just shrugs and pushes his plate toward me. I, on the other hand, do love salmon and scallops, so I gladly switch with him.

As he polishes off my grits, I may fall in love with him all over again. He tells me how his grandmother used to cook grits when he was a kid. Finding a man in Chicago who loves grits may very well be as rare as hitting the lottery, but somehow, I did it. Maybe karma doesn’t hate me after all.

"As an employee of Guardian Protection Agency, I am officially volunteering to accompany you on all further business excursions to Florida. That was delicious." I place my napkin on the table and take the last sip of my wine while Leo pays the bill.

"Well, as the owner of Guardian Protection Agency, you are welcome to join me on all further business excursions to…well, everywhere." He pauses before lifting my hand and kissing my palm. "Cásate conmigo, ángel."

"Please tell me what that means? That’s, like, the third time you’ve said it tonight."

He ignores my question and stands up, using my hand to pull me to my feet beside him. "You want to go down to the beach?"

"Only if you promise to speak in English."

"No promises." He winks and leads me from the restaurant.

We walk down the long boardwalk toward the beach. It’s the middle of the week, so there are only a few people milling around. We both remove our shoes, and Leo stashes them under the boardwalk before heading into the sand.

"God, look how big the moon is," I sigh just as my toes touch the water.

"It’s a beautiful night." Leo wraps his arms around me from behind and drags his nose up my neck. I suck in a deep breath, reveling in the mixture of his scent and the salt in the air. "Cásate conmigo," I feel him say against my skin.

"Okay. You are really starting to freak me out with that. Please just tell me what that means. I feel like you’re calling me fat or something." I turn to face him, and Leo bursts out laughing.

"I’m definitely not calling you fat, ángel."

"You know what? Fine. I’m going to Google it." I look down and realize that I didn’t bring a purse. "Give me your phone," I demand, snapping my fingers at him, making him laugh again.

When he hands over his phone, I quickly bring up the search engine.

"Okay, now can you spell it?" I ask when my first attempt at phonetics doesn’t return any results.

Leo shoves his hands in his pockets, and I swear I can see the ripples of his muscles thought his shirt. It’s almost distracting as he begins to rattle off consonants and vowels, but I forge ahead. I click enter and stumble back a step as the translation flashes on the screen.

Marry me.

My pulse spikes as my eyes fly to Leo, who’s watching me with a nervous grin.

"I…um…think Google is broken," I rush out then quickly hand him his phone and speed-walk down the beach.

Oh my f*cking God. Is he proposing? Surely, ‘marry me’ must mean something else in Spanish. Fuck, his first language is English! Maybe his Spanish isn’t as good as I thought. Maybe he thinks it’s some sort of term of endearment like ángel or mi cielo. Maybe he—