Barefoot Kisses (The Kisses 7)

He chuckled and set his menu down, focusing his beautiful eyes on me. I felt like I was the center of the entire universe when he looked at me. “Why don't we order for each other?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, setting my menu down as well.

“It's something my brother and I used to do as kids,” he explained. “I'd pick his meal and he'd pick mine.”

I thought about what I would order for my sister and wondered just what kind of terrible things he had eaten doing this. “What's to stop you from picking something terrible? I know my sister would have picked the most disgusting thing on the menu for me just because it would be funny.”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “I've eaten some disgusting things because of my brother. But, if we ordered it, my Dad made us eat it. Neither of us could leave until our meals were finished. So, in order to avoid the wrath of Dad, we usually ordered good things for each other. It was easier than the alternative.”

“Your dad sounds strict,” I said. I couldn't imagine my dad doing something like that. He would have let my sister and I reorder until we got something we liked. There was a reason my dad called us his princesses.

“My Dad's not a bad guy,” Aiden replied quickly. “There's a reason he's as successful as he is. He's just... demanding.”

“What does your dad do?” I asked. I imagined that his successful father was what had gotten him such a cushy assistant position.

“He's a businessman. He wants me to follow in his footsteps, but I don't want the same things he does.” He shrugged. “The danger of having successful parents is that they expect successful children.”

I bit my lip as an awkward silence came between us. I knew the burden of a parent's wishes. Despite the fact that I had more education and training than either of my parents, they let their disappointment show that I was just a paralegal one too many times for me to forget. Family was a hard topic for a date.

“Prime rib with mashed potatoes. Veggies on the side,” I blurted out. Aiden's brows came together over hazel eyes. I smiled nervously and explained, “that's what I'm picking for you.”

A slow, warm smile filled his face and fanned my current level of infatuation for him up another level. “Okay...” He held up his menu, peeking over the top of it every couple seconds as if he were trying to read what I would want off my face. Finally, he put the menu down. “Lobster ravioli with champagne butter sauce.”

“I was kind of hoping you would pick that,” I admitted with a grin. “I love the idea of a champagne butter sauce. I have no idea what it is, but is sounds delicious.”

“I'm excited for the prime rib. It's one of my favorites.” He smiled, making my world go bright again. “Why'd you pick it?”

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that it just sounded manly, but I decided I should tell him the real reason, even if it gave away more than I wanted. “My grandmother.”

“You managed to call her and ask without me noticing?” he teased.

“No,” I said knowing a blush was creeping across my cheeks. “My grandmother was the epitome of the conventional 1950's housewife and she firmly believed that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She decided that the reason I wasn't married was that I didn't know how to cook properly. So she tried to teach me how to cook her husband-winning prime rib.”

He leaned back in his chair, obviously enjoying my story, so I continued.

“She spent an entire day teaching me all her cooking secrets.” I smiled fondly at the memory. I could still see her smiling in that kitchen when I closed my eyes. “I failed miserably at cooking the prime rib, but we had the most amazing day together- just talking and laughing. I learned just how much she loved me and that she was proud of me. Really proud of me- even though I wasn't married. She just wanted me to be happy.”

“She sounds wonderful.” He cocked his head slightly to the side, a small smile on his face as he watched me remember.

“She was. She died a week later.” I forced a smile to banish the heartache I always felt at her passing. “Anyway, I ordered the prime rib because she would have liked you. She would have wanted me to make it for you, but you really don't want to eat mine.”

“So, you're using your grandmother's secret of prime rib to catch me?” he asked slowly, letting the implication of my story come out in the open.

I blushed even harder and opened my mouth to protest, but his knowing smile told me it was futile. “Maybe a little bit,” I conceded.

“Then I hope the prime rib here is as good as your grandmother's,” he said. A little tremor of hope and excitement went through me. He wanted me to catch him.

“Good evening, folks,” a little blonde waitress announced, coming up to the table and pouring us waters. “I'll be your server this evening. What can I get you?”

“My beautiful date here will have the lobster ravioli with champagne butter sauce,” he informed her. A thrill went down my spine at the compliment.

“Excellent choice, sir. And for you?”

Aiden looked at me, waiting for me to order. “He'll have the prime rib with mashed potatoes,” I said quickly.

“Another excellent choice, ma'am” the waitress replied, jotting it down on a little notepad. “Anything to drink? Some wine perhaps?”

I looked at him and shrugged. I hadn't even looked at the wine menu.