Logan held the door for her. “Try not to terrorize anyone before they feed us.”
Agnes attempted to incinerate his brain with the power of her mind, but it didn’t work. Meanwhile, he asked the woman who greeted them for a table for two. As she followed him through the old church, she realized he was right—the place wasn’t exactly hopping, and no one turned to look at them. There were only three other people in the dining room.
After they settled at their table, their waitress approached. The middle-aged woman looked like she’d seen life and then some, but she smiled cheerily enough. “Have you had enough time to look at the menu? Can I get you drinks while you wait? Our soup of the day is roasted butternut squash with toasted pine nuts and crispy bacon. And today’s special is confit belly and braised cheek of pork, truffle and cauliflower purée, and roast carrots with toasted nuts and brown butter jus. Tonight’s dessert is warm pistachio souffle with chocolate sauce.”
And just like that, Agnes’ hunger made itself known—with a huge stomach rumble that the waitress pretended she didn’t hear, but that made Logan chuckle.
She cast him a frown before answering their waitress. “Yes. I’ll have all of that. And bread. It comes with bread, right? I really need bread.”
To her credit, the waitress politely replied, “Yes, it comes with bread.”
“I need wine too,” Agnes added. “Red. Lots of it.” She knew nothing about wine, so there was no point in asking for it by name. “Something rich and smooth, with no tangy aftertaste.”
“I’ll get you some Malbec.” the waitress asked. The name meant nothing to Agnes. “Would you like a bottle or a glass?”
Agnes glanced at Logan. “You drinking it too?” He nodded, so she said, “A bottle, please.”
When the waitress looked at Logan, he said, “Make it two of everything, thanks, Joyce.”
“Sure thing, Logan.” And with that, she gathered their menus and hurried away.
Leaving Agnes with a grinning man.
“What?” she demanded.
“Never heard anyone order wine like that before.”
She couldn’t help the burn in her cheeks. Sometimes her poverty-ridden roots showed through, no matter how far she managed to distance herself from them. “I know what I want to taste. I just don’t know names and types.” She should have done the wine course when she was at college, but it didn’t count toward her degree, so she’d deemed it non-essential. And there’d been no room in her budget for anything that wasn’t essential.
“There wasn’t anything wrong with it.” His face softened. “I just haven’t heard it before.”
They lapsed into silence. Agnes wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat and, thankfully, Logan was smart enough not to attempt it with her. After what seemed like an eternity, their soup arrived, and Agnes fell on it like a lion who’d chased down an antelope, moaning in delight when she tasted it.
Catching Logan’s eye as she reached for the bread, which was warm and baked to perfection, she stilled. He was looking at her the same way she imagined she was looking at the bread—like she’d died and gone to heaven.
“It’s good?” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
All she could do was nod. Suddenly, the atmosphere in the restaurant seemed far more intimate than she’d noticed. There were candles on every table, soft music playing in the background, and a large open fire roaring on the back wall. In the bay window, a white Christmas tree decorated in rose gold sparkled at them. From the rich hues of the wooden floor to the exposed brickwork and the crisp white linen, it was clear the place was designed for romance. None of her dates had ever taken her somewhere quite so lovely.
But this wasn’t a date.
As if reading her mind, Logan said, “It was either eat here or at the pub, and I figured you’d seen enough of the hotel.”
Agnes didn’t quite know what to do with his thoughtfulness, so she concentrated on finishing her soup, and when the waitress arrived with their main course, she switched her focus to that. It was definitely worth her attention. The confit melted in her mouth, the carrots were deliciously sweet, and the creamy cauliflower made her taste buds sing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’
Although she actively kept her gaze from Logan, she was painfully aware of his every move. And it distracted her from her food. Honestly, his sexiness should have been a crime. From the way his bicep flexed as he reached for his wine to the way he patted his lips with his napkin. It was all overtly sensual. As though he’d been designed to make every movement an enticement. And it was annoying.
“Stop it,” she said. “You’re distracting me.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Stop what? I’m just eating.”
“I know. But it’s the way you’re doing it. Maybe you should eat over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room.
“Am I chewing too loud? Did I slurp the soup?” His eyes twinkled at her, which was also sexy and therefore rubbed her up the wrong way.
“You’re being too…sexy. It’s seriously irritating.”
That slow, panty-melting smile of his lit up his face. “Too sexy?”