“Then I’d say I’m on the right track,” I finally reply.
Her cheeks blush a glorious soft pink. She opens her mouth to say something, but our server appears.
“Good evening, Mr. Steel, and…”
“Ms. Pike,” I say.
“Ms. Pike. Wonderful. I’m Lori, and I’ll be your server. What can I get you to drink this evening?”
“Rory?” I ask.
“I think I’ll just have sparkling mineral water, thank you.”
“Cap Rock martini for me,” I say.
“Thank you. Did you want to order any appetizers?”
I glance at Rory.
“I don’t think so,” she says.
“You sure? The steak tartare is excellent. A hundred percent Steel beef.”
“I don’t eat raw meat. Most of the time.” She lifts one eyebrow.
Just slightly, but I notice. I notice everything about Rory. More teasing. God, I’m going to explode.
“One order of steak tartare for me, then,” I say to Lori. “And bring some crispy brussels sprouts for the lady.”
Rory wrinkles her nose. “Brussels sprouts. Really?”
“That’s what you’re getting unless you tell me what you actually want.”
Yeah, two can play this game. Though the raw meat comment almost undid me.
She glances down at her menu. “Fine. I’ll have the oysters on the half shell.”
“Awesome,” Lori says. “Did you want West Coast or East Coast?”
“East Coast, I think.”
“Perfect. I’ll get everything started, and I’ll be back with your drinks in a few minutes.” Lori whisks away.
“Thought you don’t eat raw meat.” I smile. Sort of.
“Oysters aren’t meat. They’re seafood. And they’re a delicacy. I’m happy to eat any delicacy.” She bites her lower lip.
Damn, damn, damn. She’s trying to kill me right here at the Fortnight.
I gaze at her. Right into her beautiful eyes, until she finally looks away.
Okay. Now what? I’m truly interested in learning more about her bisexuality, and not just because it’s hot. I’m actually interested. I’m interested in everything about her.
“Tell me more about this self-discovery of yours. About your sexual orientation.”
“I’m more than my sexual orientation, Brock.”
“Don’t you think I know that? You’re also more than just your gorgeous face and awesome rack.”
Her eyes widen.
Okay, maybe that was too far.
But then she smiles. “Thank you for noticing. And I actually get it—why you’re interested. Why everyone’s interested. As a bisexual, I’m in a minority, so people in the majority—like you—don’t quite understand. I can’t really explain how it all works, except to say that it’s normal for me.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning you’re a straight man. What’s normal for you is to be attracted to women and only women. So just imagine that being bisexual—being attracted to both sexes—feels that way to me. Completely normal.”
“I’m not sure anyone’s explained it in such a succinct way before,” I say.
“I’m not sure anyone’s ever explained it to you at all before.”
I laugh. “Touché. You’re right about that.”
“You don’t have any friends that are a different sexual orientation?”
“No, I do. One of my buddies from college is gay. But it’s not something we talk about. I guess it’s a guy thing.”
“Maybe. Maybe you’re just more comfortable asking me, a woman.”
“You know? You’re probably right. You’re easy to talk to.”
“So are you,” she says, “and it surprises the heck out of me.”
“Rory, why does that surprise you? Surely you don’t think I’m nothing more than a pretty face.”
That gets her. She looks down. “I don’t. Not anymore, anyway.”
“See? You and I have that in common. We’re judged on our looks alone. But I’m interested in more than your looks.”
The truth of my words surprises me more than a little. Since when am I interested in something deeper?
“So you’re interested in my bisexuality, then,” she says.
“That among other things. I’m interested in everything about you. I hope I’ve made that clear. But sure, I’m interested in your orientation. I think everyone is interested in something that’s different.”
“Probably. Although I don’t go around asking straight people when they realized they were straight.”
I laugh again. “Rory, you are something else.”
She smiles demurely. I mean, really demurely. This woman is well practiced in the art of the smile. “Thank you for noticing.”
“Babe, anyone would have to be blind not to notice you.”
She scoffs softly. “I mean, thank you for noticing that there’s more to me than the surface.”
“There’s more to everyone than just the surface,” I say.
“I know that. But you’re Brock Steel. A Rake-a-teer.”
Am I supposed to apologize? “Guilty. I like women. I like taking women to bed. I like taking beautiful women to bed. But it’s a lot more satisfying when they have something between their ears as well.”
“Really? Even for a one-nighter?”
“Of course. Lovemaking is an art. The smart ones know what they’re doing. Or if they don’t, they’re willing to learn. The others tend to just lie there.”
This gets a laugh out of her. A really happy laugh. A laugh that makes me want to say something hilarious just to hear that sound for the rest of my life.
Boy, that thought jars me. The rest of my life? I’m twenty-four. A Rake-a-teer, as Rory says. I can’t be thinking about the rest of my life with Rory Pike or anyone else.