Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(25)

“Summer catch?”

She nodded. “Young but fresh.”

He placed his menu flat on the table. “What’s the best winter catch?”

“Gill net fishing’s good on the ocean side in the winter,” she said. “Bluefish, croakers, sea trout, striped bass. Any of those.”

“I don’t fish much, but when I do, it’s off a dock with a fishin’ pole and some worms.”

“Aw,” she said, tilting her head to the side and giving him a saccharine smile. “That’s cuuuute.”

He chuckled softly. “Why do I suddenly feel like a five-year-old?”

“Cause that’s how a five-year-old fishes?” she suggested with a giggle. “Naw. I’m kidding. Hook and line gear is fine. You can catch seven or eight at a time when they’re moving.”

“Seven or eight? How’s that?” he asked.

“Commercial fishing. One line, eight hooks,” she said. “Catch ’em fast, you can have a good day.”

“You know a lot about this,” he said.

She nodded. “Everyone on Corey knows about fish. It’s a lifestyle.”

“So why don’t you order for us?”

She shook her head. As much as she knew all there was to know about the fish on the meu, the side dishes were all foreign-sounding to her. Braising reduction? Edamame? Raisin smear? Were these items actually food?

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, feeling her cheeks heat up as she kept her eyes glued to the strange-sounding words.

“Why not?”

She leaned forward, looking up at him. “I don’t know what half of these things are.”

“Like what?”

“Braising reduction?”

“A sauce.”

“Edamame?”

“Japanese peapods.”

“Raisin smear?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Got me there. I have no idea. Maybe smushed-up raisins?”

She laughed along with him, then nodded. “Let’s do this: I’ll order the fish; you order the rest. Deal?”

He nodded at her. “Deal. We make our own rules, Freckles.”

His words went straight to her heart with a wild shot of something that felt so wonderful, her whole body flushed in response, and suddenly she was remembering their kiss—the way he’d pressed his private place against hers, the way his tongue had felt sliding against hers.

“Whatever you’re thinkin’ about, I wish I was thinkin’ about it too,” he said softly, his eyes dark and serious when she looked up at him.

“I’m thinking about you,” she admitted breathlessly.

He shifted in his seat. “And what exactly are you thinkin’, darlin’?”

“How much I want to kiss you again,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he said, his voice low and intense, sending shivers of yearning down her spine.

She darted a glance around the restaurant quickly. Well-dressed couples chatted softly with each other, their faces bathed in candlelight. The ladies wore pearl necklaces and upscale collared shirts by Ralph Lauren and Izod, and the men spoke softly, laughed without much sound. This was not the Corey Fish Pot, where Remy regularly hauled Kyrstin up against his chest and kissed her lustily at the bar. This was a nice and proper place, and she needed to stop looking at Erik Rexford like she wanted to eat him with a fork and spoon.

Maybe splashing some cold water on her cheeks would help.

Folding her napkin carefully, she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Laire,” he said, and her eyes slid to his, captivated by the hungry look in them. “Are you askin’ me to follow you?”

“To the ladies’ room?” she asked, feeling her eyes widen in surprise. “N-no!”

“Oh,” he said, leaning back in his chair and picking up his glass of red wine. “Sorry. I guess I . . .” He shook his head and took a sip of wine.

“Do people do that?” she whispered, leaning toward him. “Meet in the ladies’ room to kiss?”

He grinned at her as he placed his glass back on the table. “Yes, ma’am. Sometimes they do.”

“Naughty,” she said, smiling back at him as she stood up. “Can you wait until after dinner to kiss me again?”

“If I have to,” he said, though his eyes made a leisurely sweep down her body, making her feel hot and eager and impatient.

She sighed with longing, ruefully wondering if nice restaurants ever packed dinners to go. “I’ll be right back.”

In the restroom, she washed her hands with the coldest possible water and reminded herself to behave. As she exited, she bumped into Ms. Sebastian, who was headed for the kitchen.

“Laire!”

“Ms. Sebastian!”

The older woman reached for Laire, hugging her like a long-lost friend, and though Laire was surprised by the gesture, it felt so good to be hugged, she leaned into the embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m glad to see you again so soon.”

“I came to say I want the job,” said Laire.

“Really? Your father said yes?”

Laire took a deep breath. “Sort of. He thinks I’m working at a place on Ocracoke for now.”