Brock goes to a cupboard, pulls out two plates, and sets one in front of me and one at the empty space. He adds cloth napkins—yes, cloth napkins—steak knives, forks, and spoons. I can’t help a smile at his charming contrariness—a kitchen table that isn’t set, but cloth napkins and freshly cut dahlias. Adorable.
“Do you want wine with dinner?”
“Honestly? I’d like another beer as much as anything.”
He smiles. “Your wish is my command.” He pulls another Fat Tire out of the refrigerator and opens it for me. “Do you want a glass?”
I shake my head. “Tastes better out of the bottle.”
“You know? I think you’re right.” He pulls out another beer, opens it, and sets it next to his own plate. He places a perfectly grilled filet mignon on my plate and then one of the twice-baked sweet potatoes. He puts the cauliflower in a bowl and sets it in the middle of the table, along with a basket of rolls. “These are from Ava’s. Fresh baked.”
“I love fresh-baked bread. My mom’s an amazing baker too.” I inhale, the yeasty aroma making my stomach growl.
“You’re hungry,” Brock says, smiling.
“That I am.”
What he doesn’t know is that I’m hungry for something more than food.
I’m hungry for the man sitting right next to me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brock
Rory Pike likes to eat. I noticed that Monday on our date. She eats heartily and enjoys her food. In fact, watching her savor each bite is kind of a sexual experience.
“How do you eat like this and not gain an ounce of weight?” I ask.
“Good metabolism. All of us Pikes have it. Good genes.”
She lifts her eyebrows at the mention of her good genes.
“The best genes, I’d say. You’re a great-looking bunch.”
“As are the Steels,” she says.
“Well, don’t tell my cousins, but you’re more beautiful than any of the Steel women.”
“You think so? I think it’s only because you don’t think of your cousins that way.”
“That’s probably part of it, but surely you know you’re the most beautiful woman in Snow Creek. Everyone knows.”
“I don’t know that, and don’t call me Shirley.”
It’s an old joke, and her cheeks redden. From embarrassment or from actually knowing she’s the most beautiful woman in Snow Creek? I’m not sure.
“Would it surprise you to know that I don’t think of myself that way?” she continues.
“No. If you did, you’d probably be the most conceited woman in Snow Creek as well as the most beautiful.”
She blushes further. My God, she’s so beautiful. Everything about her. From her long flowing dark hair, her big brown eyes, her perfect cheekbones, her full pink lips. That long, slender neck that I’m dying to kiss.
I want to bite her on that neck, leave my mark.
Damn. Down, boy, I say to my cock.
Time to get my head away from her beauty. Both heads, actually. Brad said to ask a lot of questions, so here goes.
“Tell me all about yourself, Rory. What is your biggest dream?”
She doesn’t answer for a moment, which surprises me. Her biggest dream was to be an operatic mezzo, and I berate myself for asking the question because we already talked about that on Monday. The last thing I want is for her to get sad again and talk about how she didn’t make it.
I open my mouth to change the subject, when she surprises me.
“A baby,” she says. “My biggest dream is to be a mother.”
I stop myself from dropping my jaw. Talk about a surprising answer.
“Are you going to say anything?” she asks.
“I’m just…”
“Surprised?”
“Well…yeah. A little.”
“Why? Because I’m bisexual? Because I’ve had relationships with women, which can’t lead to a biological child? There is adoption, you know.” She clears her throat. “And insemination from a sperm donor.”
“Rory, I’m not thinking any of that.”
“What then? Why is it so surprising to you?”
“I just… I don’t know. You don’t seem like…”
“The type? The type to be a mother?”
Obviously I’ve offended her, and I didn’t mean to.
“You’ll be a great mother,” I say.
“And how do you know that? You don’t know anything about me, other than my failed foray into opera.”
Okay. I need a save.
Damn you, Brad. Ask a lot of questions, you said. And look where it got me.
“Easy,” I say.
“Easy? I’m twenty-eight years old, Brock. Did you forget that? Did you forget the fact that I’m older than you are?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten that. Rory, you’ll make a great mom. Having children is a noble calling. I’d like to have them myself someday.”
The operative word being someday.
She sighs then, slathers butter on another of Ava’s rolls, and takes a bite. She chews. And she chews.
When I’m convinced she’s masticated it into complete mush, she finally swallows.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I asked you what your biggest dream was. If that’s the truth, then of course you should’ve said it.”
“Now you’re going to think I have baby fever.”