Page 35 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

“Asking me out on this date.” I stood, and maybe it was the promise of crab rangoon, or maybe I was still riding the high of a great night, but I offered him my hand. “Let’s go!”

9

KEITH

DINNER AND MAKING A HOME MOVIE

“You’ve got something on your nose.”

“I do?” Olivia asked, her eyes going wide. She looked far too cute with that expression. Like a cartoon drawing or doll, all bright-eyed and cherubic, and yet entirely grown.

Never in a million years would I have envisioned our date in an upscale restaurant progressing to the two of us sitting across from each other at an Americanized Chinese buffet, but that was exactly what happened.

And I couldn’t be happier about it.

I had hoped that things would go well—it was why I’d asked her out after all—but I’d had no idea we would have so much in common. While I had been worried about being significantly older than her, seven years didn’t seem like that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. Besides, Olivia had made it clear that it wasn’t an issue for her. It was so like me to get worked up over it anyway, but as far as I could tell, Olivia understood what it was like to have a bunch of anxious thoughts crammed into her skull.

“Rule one of part two of our date: You do not comment on how many crab rangoon and other seafood things I pile on my plate.”

I nodded eagerly in relief. While I didn’t purposefully eat until I was sick—that was something I’d dealt with when I was younger and food went from being something my mom and I could never have enough of to something I didn’t have to worry about having access to—I did have a big appetite. After all, I had years of woodworking muscle on top of my naturally larger frame, and I happened to be six-four with a skull bigger than some people’s waists. I still occasionally got self-conscious about my size and the attention it brought, but for the most part, I had made peace with it. Now, I actually appreciated all the benefits that came with my bulk. Granted, most of those benefits had to do with picking up heavy objects and manipulating wood, but a positive was a positive.

“As long as you don’t judge me for how much shrimp and broccoli and beef and broccoli I inhale.”

She extended her hand across the table, the same hand that I had seen force a dull chisel through a hard piece of wood without so much as breaking a sweat. If there was anyone I didn’t have to worry about crushing with my grip, it was the beautiful woman in front of me.

“Deal.”

Once our drinks were dropped off at the table, it was off to the races, with Olivia and me splitting off to focus on our aforementioned favorite dishes. When we returned to the table, we both had an impressive amount of food considering that each of us had fully finished our meals earlier.

I didn’t feel bad about it though, because our meal had been at least two hours in the past, mine had only been a piece of fish and a side of vegetables, and I’d been too nervous to eat earlier in the day, so I was probably running at a slight caloric deficit. Besides, if I indulged too much, I could work it off the next day with some boxing at the gym, maybe some time on the bike, and then working on my canoe for the rest of the evening.

“Not bad,” Olivia remarked, opening up her chopsticks and splitting them without rubbing them. That act alone told me she was probably familiar with Chinese buffets. Back when I was a kid, they were a special occasion thing, something we splurged on when Mom had a little extra money, so they always held a special place in my heart. Naturally, seeing my date not only familiar, but entirely at home made me feel quite a bit more at ease than I thought I would be on a first date.

“Right back at you,” I said, meaning it. “You might actually give me a run for my money.”

“Is that a challenge?”

The way her eyes sparkled had me absolutely keen on what it would be like to be in an actual competition with her, but I didn’t rise to the occasion.

“As much as I would like to say yes, I think my cholesterol levels would rather I graciously decline.”

“Smart,” she said before popping a crab rangoon into her mouth and chewing it before speaking again. “Because I’d slaughter you.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

She beamed again, so bright and sunny. She was so much more relaxed than she had been in our first class together. When we’d had our conversation about her project, I remembered it being pleasant, but that was largely it. She hadn’t really made an impression on me up until she almost embedded her chisel in the roof. But while that moment had been what put her on my radar, especially when our faces had come so close together, it wasn’t until she strutted in during our second class looking like she owned the place that I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

As we ate, I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused her to go from quiet and unassuming to confident and demanding of her space. So, I decided to ask her.

“So… what changed for you between my first and second class?”

“Pardon?” she asked. That seemed to be her catchphrase. I’d overheard her use it several times during my workshop. Either that, or she was hard of hearing.

“The first day you looked like you’d rather be anywhere but in my class; you could barely even look me in the eye. I don’t think I have to explain how that’s changed.”

She gave me that questioning look, which I was becoming more and more familiar with, but I didn’t understand why she looked confused.

“Are you serious?” she asked, like she couldn’t tell if I was joking, and now it was my turn to be confused.