Page 49 of The Billionaire Mismatch

“38 Special?” I ask. “All that gruff and you decide to play 38 Special?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks. “It’s classic.”

“It is classic,” I agree. “It’s also good. Hold On Loosely is one of my favorite songs.”

“Does it surprise you that I like good music?” he asks.

“A lot of things about you surprise me, Luca Laurent,” I answer, and it earns me about a fifth of a smile. But it’s a nice fifth.

When we finally pull up to the restaurant, Luca kills the engine, and we both look out the window.

“This is it?” he asks.

“This is it!” I exclaim while I unbuckle my seatbelt. “It looks just like the photos.”

“Yes, it does,” he says, and it’s obvious the difference in our tones. But I don’t really care. I am obsessed with hole in the wall, eccentric restaurants, and this one has had a top-tier spot on my bucket list for quite some time.

I get out of the car before Luca has time to open my door for me. Not that he is in any type of hurry. In fact, I have to grab his hand this time. If I wasn’t tugging him, he’d probably crawl back in his car and make a run for the nearest Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse.

Unfortunately for him, our fingers are laced, and I am determined.

We walk inside, and both of us gasp softly.

“Holy shit!” I whisper.

“Holy shit,” he also whispers. Again, same words, different tone. “Are you sure this is where you want to eat? I looked at the map and I’m pretty sure there is a–”

“This is where I want to eat,” I say with the absolution that no one, not even a big, grumpy CEO can say no to.

“Table for two?” a waitress with space buns and a witch tattoo on her forearm asks.

“Yes,” I answer.

“Inside or outside?” she asks.

“Are there less plants outside?” Luca asks.

“I think there might be more…” the waitress says.

“Outside,” I answer with a smile, both because I love this place and because I am having fun.

We are situated at a small table with a candle in the middle. The menus are on parchment paper with handwritten calligraphy.

“So we have a couple of specials. We have the fried avocado, which is just like it sounds. Crispy avocado slices seasoned with gluten-free breading, tamari reduction, sriracha-lime mayo, sesame seeds, and green onions. And then we have the black bean burger with arugula, tomato, garlic aioli, bleu cheese crumbles, house-made sweet pickles and a side of sweet potato or truffle fries. Can I get you anything else to drink besides water?”

“I will take a gin and tonic,” I answer, practically singing.

“Whiskey. Rye. Neat. Thank you,” Luca says, and the waitress gives him a once over.

“I’ll give you a moment to look over the menus,” she says before walking away.

“She was cute,” I say, eyeing the entrees.

“She looked at me like I burn witches for fun,” he says, and I laugh.

“She did not.”

Luca skims the menu before scratching his beard. Usually, he has a well-kept five o’clock shadow. And while it’s still neatly groomed, he has been growing it slightly. I don’t hate it. It’s agolden brown flecked with silver, and I have to admit I don’t hate that either.