“Everything is white and marble and nothing appears comfortable. I’d be afraid of making a mess.”
He shrugs. “I have been meaning to have it redone since I won it in the card game. For now it’s quite convenient and very comfortable. Tell me more about these updates you’re planning on the house.”
Cheryl puts her hand on mine. “Olivia was kind enough to be honest with me and promised to help me update the living room. Only the more I got to thinking about it, I decided I want to really renovate the kitchen. After the kitchen fire, the redo was just a band-aid, and with opening up the living room and wall to the dining room I would like to see what else we might be able to do. I called in a professional, he’s coming tomorrow. With his help and Olivia’s we’ll get it done before you come to stay for festival season.”
Rourke’s eyes narrow on me. “Once your mom is comfortable in every room instead of just her own, then she’ll be more inclined to spend time outside of her room.”
“Hmm...how sneaky of you, Olivia. How did you know I preferred my bedroom?”
“When I first came to see you, you said the living room was depressing. It’s not uncommon to hole up in your bedroom then get too comfortable there. However, it isn’t healthy.”
When the waiter comes, I order the salmon. Cheryl has the rack of lamb and Rourke orders the roast chicken.
“If you ordered the chicken, then why was I supposed to order the tasting menu?”
“Because it’s an exemplary selection of varied items I wanted you to be able to say you tried at least once. I’m guessing you don’t make a habit of eating quail eggs?” I can’t stop from frowning. “Exactly. However, they are excellent, and my chef makes the best in Texas. If you want to miss out, it’s entirely up to you.”
“I have been here before. There’s every chance I’ll come back again.”
“Yes, but will you be with someone the chef will be sweating his ass off to impress?” His eyebrows go up.
I shrug. “You never know. I never once thought I’d be here with the owner of the place, so who is to say who I’ll be with the next time I come. Or are you saying you’ll never bring me again? One time only, enjoy it now while I can?”
“I rarely have the time to eat here myself. This is only the second time in the month and a half since I’ve been back I’ve eaten here.”
I’m surprised. “Now that sounds wrong. What’s the use of owning such a nice place to eat then never coming here?”
“Rourke usually eats carefully weighed and measured dietician-prepared food. It’s only for me that he’ll relax to eat real food, then I’m sure he goes home to work out every bad calorie.” Cheryl runs her hand over the back of Rourke’s hand.
Great, I’m feeling like the asshole again. “I apologize, you really are concerned about getting diabetes and your health.”
Rourke shrugs. “My father, and likely my grandfather had it. I’m predisposed to it. However the longer, I can hold off getting it the better for me, as it means less stress on my kidneys.”
“Emilio was diagnosed at only thirty-seven, and he fought with me almost every day about what he wanted to eat.” Cheryl sighs. “The doctors think it played a part in his heart attacks.”
“It’s interesting how it seems Hispanics have a predisposition for it, only my mom was kind of chunky and she was forever checking her A1C, her history of her sugar levels, without any issues. My grandmother and my aunts didn’t have any issues either. I think it’s really about diet.
“For my mom it was all about chicken and fish and more of the plate being green than anything. She also did vegetarian dishes for dinner at least twice a week, and she rarely made rice and only used potatoes every once in a while because it was how my grandmother fed them. My grandfather was a doctor from Lisbon, Portugal and into the eating healthy thing long before it became a fad. Yet, if you look at the diet for most Mexicans, it’s mainly rice and potatoes and corn, with very few vegetables.”
Rourke tilts his head. “Maybe. There have been times I was told my A1c was too low, to go ahead and do the splurge day or whatever. Only I find I can’t seem to enjoy it. I’m back in the gym trying to work it off.”
“You won’t for this though, right? I mean roasted chicken and
steamed broccoli and carrots. How can that be bad?”
He won’t look at me. “We’ll see.”
***
Rourke
Olivia and her questions and her poking and making me think. Christ, I wish I could shut her out. Only I can’t and a part of me would hate myself for doing it, for missing out on a second with her.
I had no idea Mom was so unhappy with the living room it was a reason she was sticking to her bedroom. Seeing Mom now is enough of a progress report to how things are going. Despite my ridiculous attraction to Olivia Casey, I’m glad she took the job. Then again, sixty grand is more than most people would be willing to turn down. I still have a hard time not smiling at how she got me up from fifty to sixty without intending to. From anyone else I would have believed it was just a bargaining tactic, only there was no guile in her horrified look when I increased it to sixty, then sorrow when I told her she talked herself out of the increase. It annoys me how often I’ve thought of the moment, of Olivia Casey, since I last saw her. I knew my desire for her was bad; I had no idea how bad, though, until tonight.
When I saw her standing too damn close to the musclebound guy while she smiled up at him, I wanted to turn the man’s bones to dust. I don’t do jealousy—the emotion is pointless—or at least I thought I didn’t until I saw Olivia and the guy together. Only the way Olivia talked about him with disdain calmed me enough to stop wanting to break things. At least until my mom mentioned Olivia would be running around in a swimsuit in front of the men. It didn’t matter if she didn’t care about them; I wasn’t going to allow another man to see her half-naked in a bathing suit.
The black dress she’s wearing is demure with a boatneck and long sleeves, and goes down to her knees. All I can think of doing is removing it from her delectable little body, slowly. When I touched her, sliding my hand to the small of her back, her jumping at the touch told me everything. And it made my cock harden so badly I’m not sure how I managed to walk upright to the table.