Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Of course, we’re seated at the best table in the back, and my date immediately orders us a bottle of wine. I gasp because he chooses a vintage that costs over two hundred bucks, and I’ve never tasted anything that cost more than twelve. But I try not to let my astonishment show. Keeping a calm smile on my lips, I take a napkin off the table and carefully fold it in my lap with legs crossed beneath.
“This is a lovely place,” I murmur, shooting the handsome man a sweet smile.
“Well, I wanted to take you out on a proper date, sweetheart,” he tells me.
I giggle. “Yes, but I had fun on our last date too.”
Clay grins, his eyes going dark with arousal.
“That was very fun, indeed. And I’d like to do it again sometime, if you’re interested. But no one can go to the club every night because that would be insane. Sometimes, the regular things in life are nice too, and this way we can chat and get to know each other better.”
The waiter brings our wine to the table, pouring a small sample out for Clay to try.
“It’s superb, thanks my friend,” he tells the waiter. When we’re alone again, we lightly clink our glasses and cheers. I take a small sip from my glass and lean back in my seat happily. I see Clay is still wrapped up in the experience of his fine wine, swirling the glass and sniffing the aroma before indulging in a sip. When he’s finally done he looks up at me and lingers, staring into my eyes for a long moment.
“You look beautiful tonight, Kitty,” he says in a husky voice. I feel my cheeks burn. Like a dunce, I resort to humor, which is my usual means of deflection.
“Thank you, but I had to take advantage of the occasion! As a salesgirl at a candy store, I’m wearing a pink and white striped apron most days. Plus, I don’t exactly get many opportunities for fine dining. Most of my meals come from the corner burger joint,” I admit, giggling bashfully. He gets an interested look.
“Do you like burgers?” he asks. I hesitate to answer, nervous that Clay’s going to do something crazy like make a special request of the kitchen. I also think about lying because it must make me sound so low-class to admit I like eating burgers and French fries. Shooting a sideways look at Clay’s physique, he probably eats healthfully and works out like a gladiator.
But I decide against lying because where would that get me? Besides, my man has already seen my curves, and he knows I’m not a skinny girl. Luckily for me, some guys prefer their woman to be on the bigger side, and if Clay came back for seconds he must be one of those men.
“I do like burgers,” I confess. “I kind of adore them actually. I know it’s a weird thing to say but I work with food, so I appreciate burgers for their subtleties. There’s something about the fact that they are so simple and straightforward, and yet so tasty. I especially love them when they’re loaded with cheese.” The handsome man chuckles at my admission.
“Believe it or not, but the Left Bank is actually known for their cheeseburger,” he tells me. I blink.
“Stop it!” is my exclamation. “Really? You must be pulling my leg. No way.”
“They are. I’m not joking,” he says, quirking a smile at me.
“But it’s so elegant here. And isn’t their thing French food?” I ask, confused.
He nods, blue eyes dancing.
“Yes, but for some reason they have a cheeseburger on their menu and it happens to be their standout item.” He nods his head at a waiter delivering meals to a table across the way. “Take a look,” he urges me. “Everyone gets it.”
To my surprise, the restaurant really is selling cheeseburgers! And not only that, but about half the diners at the table across the way ordered the cheeseburger with mounds of glistening, golden fries. My mouth waters at the sight. The burger patty is incredibly thick and looks super juicy. The toppings are piled so high that the bun balances precariously. And the French fries, oh my, I can smell the goodness wafting from them from all the way from where we sit.
Clay nods and winks at me.
“You see, this place may be a bit fancy, but at the end of the day, people like what they like, and this establishment is smart enough to cater to that,” he says in a low voice. “Why not? It’s the best way to make money.” I’m blown away by the idea of an upscale restaurant selling burgers and fries, but my date has a point. People can have their fancy lifestyles, but sometimes, you just want the basics. I rub my tummy, giggling.