Love on the Lake (Lakeside #2)(50)

“Because it looks like you’re doing math in your head. And you’re biting your lip. It’s distracting and making me think about all the ways I plan to put those lips to good use later. Stop beating yourself up for your upbringing and enjoy a night out with me, Teagan. This is the first time in a lot of years that I’ve taken a woman out to a place as nice as this one, so don’t rain on my parade.”

“When was the last time you went on a date like this?”

“Back in college.” His gaze returns to the menu.

“Who was the lucky girl?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

“Her name was Alexis.”

“Was she your girlfriend at the time?”

“We dated for a while.”

“What’s a while?”

“A couple of months maybe. She didn’t have a lot of depth. She was book smart, but it was as if all her intellectual capacity was channeled into her courses and there was nothing left over for the rest of the people she involved herself with. All she wanted to talk about was how much weight her roommate had gained and how annoying it was that her dad wouldn’t put a grand in her account every time she needed a new pair of shoes. The entitlement was a lot to handle. Anyway, it probably should have ended a lot sooner, but she had a few redeeming qualities, none that I would be inclined to talk about for fear of seeming shallow and like a giant douche.”

I laugh. “I don’t think you need to elaborate on those special skills.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Please don’t judge me too harshly.”

“I’m pretty sure I was probably that girl at some point, which is embarrassing. But I can also admit to having dated someone with the depth of a puddle back in college.”

“This is a story I think I need to hear.”

We’re interrupted briefly when the server comes to take our drink order. I’m impressed when he doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at Aaron’s request for root beer. I order a glass of prosecco, and Aaron suggests calamari as an appetizer, and I agree.

Once the server has left, he makes a go-on motion and props his chin on his fist. “Tell me about this guy you dated in college.”

“It was brief.”

“But long enough that you brought him up, and obviously there are some interesting memories attached to him, based on the way your cheeks are on fire. Give me the dirt, Teagan. Don’t forget that I know how much of a firecracker you are between the sheets.”

“Shh. You don’t need to tell the entire restaurant.”

“No one is listening to us.” He motions to the tables around us. “They’re all in their own little bubbles, just like us.”

He has a point. “His name was Andy, and he didn’t go to my college.”

“Okay. So how did you meet him?”

“At a bar. Anyway, I gave him my number, and we ended up going out on a date. It was a struggle to find things to talk about, but eventually we ended up back at his place, and, well . . .” I wave a hand around in the air, not feeling like I need to finish that story. “Anyway, the, uh, between-the-sheets part was a lot of fun, but I found out that he had a criminal record, so I lost his number really fast after that. It was fun while it lasted, though.”

“Wait, you went out with a felon?”

“It was very, very brief, almost too brief to count.”

“Were you a bit of a bad girl in college?”

I shrug. “Not really, apart from that one time. I never went away to school, but I had friends in the dorms, and I stayed there sometimes. I spent a lot of time trying to meet expectations that weren’t always reasonable or attainable. Sometimes I still do. It’s a hard habit to unlearn.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.” I tuck my hands under the table so I don’t give in to the urge to bite my fingernails. I shouldn’t have told him that story.

“I love that you’re this closet badass and that you don’t let everyone see that side of you. I also kind of want to hunt down this Andy guy and beat the hell out of him, which isn’t rational and definitely doesn’t speak to my feminist side, but there you go.”

“If it makes you feel better, you are far better at other things than he could ever hope to be.”

Aaron shakes his head. “It doesn’t, actually—wait, yeah, it does make me feel better.” He holds his fingers a hair’s breadth apart. “But not so much that I don’t still want to kick his ass.”

The server brings our drinks, and we order our main course. Portion sizes here are so much smaller than they are at the pub, which is good, because most of the time I have leftovers for days when I get a meal from there.

I order the salmon and Aaron gets the steak. The conversation shifts away from our former dating habits and back to the farmers’ market.

“Do you want it to be locals, or will you see if some of the McMansion families want to participate?”

“I thought local would probably be best to start. Do you agree?” It’s nice to pick the brain of someone who knows both sides of the lake like Aaron does.

“Maybe for the first one? I think over time, though, it could be a good way to bring both sides of the lake together. Plus the McMansion folk have lots of green to throw around, and there are a group of hockey wives who do fundraising. They could be great to have on your team.”