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“Gladly,” Dexter says, stripping meat off a rib and shoveling it into his mouth.
There’s something weirdly adorable about him eating with real passion, not picking at his plate with perfectly mild manners like I figured he would. I know Nana appreciates it too, nodding her approval as his food disappears rapidly.
I join in, gobbling up potatoes while Nana fires off a few more questions about his company. Of course.
She’s probably thrilled that I’m finally dating someone with a better idea of how to run a business than I have.
“Sounds like you have a lot of responsibilities,” she says.
“Some,” he agrees. “It isn’t always pretty, but I manage.”
“Maybe you and Junie could talk about her big plans for the Sugar Bowl.” Nana points at me with her fork.
Ouch.
I smile painfully. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. When the opportunity comes knocking—”
“Actually, we try not to mix business and our private lives.” Dexter looks at me. I realize he’s giving me an out. “In the future, we’ll certainly touch more on our careers. For now, we’re enjoying our time together. It isn’t always easy finding it with our rigid schedules, and who wants to talk about work?”
Nice save, Big Fish.
“Ah, okay. How did you two meet?” Nana asks. “Junie never did say.”
Oh God.
I take a big gulp of wine as Dex looks at me and smiles, waiting for me to take this one.
“We met at the Nelson-Atkins museum last winter,” I say carefully. “Turns out, he’s a big fan of modern art.”
“She walked up to me admiring my favorite piece and insulted it to my face,” he says bluntly. I send him a glare. This wasn’t part of the plan. “She told me modern art can be—what was it you said, Junie?”
I remember the conversation we had in his office.
“Uh, underwhelming? Colorful but confusing? What can I say, I like my pretty pictures more when I don’t need a psych degree to understand them…”
“Right, that’s it. And I said—”
“You asked if I need everything spelled out when I take a walk in the woods. You insisted some art can be so abstract it has its own meaning, just like nature. Then I got up in arms and told you how wrong you were.”
“She was smitten in the first five minutes,” he says, throwing a heavy look at Nana.
She cackles wildly.
“Excuse me?” I jab my fork at him. “Youwere the one who asked me out for coffee!”
“Yeah. Somebody had to correct your prehistoric opinions on everything after Monet and Van Gogh.”
“Oh, right, sothat’swhy you asked me out.” I shake my head.
His face relaxes into an easy smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes. “Nah. I asked you out because I love seeing you get all worked up about the stuff you care about. A lot of people won’t do that for anything.”
I’m blushing.
Holy hell, I’mblushing.
Again.
Nana bursts into a new laughing fit.
