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Megan chuckled. “Probably not. All right. No shop cat. I don’t even like cats all that much. I’d rather have a dog, myself.”
I made a big checkmark on a list I hadn’t realized I was keeping of all the ways Megan was perfect for me. “Small, medium, or large?”
“Are we talking dinner or dogs?”
“Dogs. But we’ll circle back to the food in a sec.”
“You’re going to make fun, but I love Yorkies. Maybe a schnauzer.”
I grinned. “So, a purse dog.”
“Schnauzers don’t fit in purses.” She squirmed a little. “Okay, maybe they could go in a big shoulder bag. You probably want a big, goofy thing like a lab or a boxer, right?”
I shuddered. “Nope. I am not a fan of large dogs. I’m probably more team schnauzer than Yorkie, but I could be persuaded to go that route.”
Her jaw dropped. “No way.”
“Way.” I didn’t need to explain the whole big-dog-jumped-on-me-and-scarred-me-forever story, did I? It wasn’t the manliest story in my arsenal and I’d rather not get into it if I didn’t have to. I cleared my throat. “So. Dinner?”
“Yeah, okay. But not from the café. I go there entirely too often and I’m kind of over it. I feel bad saying that, but it’s true.”
“That’s fair. I’m in the mood for Italian, anyway. What if I got takeout from Mia’s?”
“I’m so in.” Megan grabbed her phone and opened a browser. “Hang on and I’ll tell you what I want. I can give you some money.”
“Please.” I waved that off. “One of us happens to have no issue on that front.”
She visibly bristled. “I don’t have money issues.”
“No offense intended. I know you’re a strong, competent, capable woman.”
Megan squinted at me and I got the impression she was trying to decide if I was teasing her. I wasn’t. Or not much. Just a tiny bit. The fact was, she was all of those things. And I loved her for it.
Wait, what?
Not loved. Liked. Appreciated, actually, would be an even better word.
Admired? Sure. That worked, too.
She turned her attention back to her phone, and I slowly let out a breath. I wasn’t positive she still didn’t plan to toss money at me, but seriously, what was the point of being a billionaire if I couldn’t pick up the tab for dinner when it was my idea in the first place?
Megan set her phone down. “Chicken parm, a house salad, and if they can do that strawberry lemonade they do as a takeaway? I’d love that.”
“Garlic bread?”
The look she gave me practically shouted, “Duh!”
I chuckled. “Just checking. All right. I’ll be back…well, I’d say in a minute, but it’ll probably end up being closer to an hour by the time I get there, order, they make it, and I get back.”
“That’s okay. I’m not in a rush. You’re sure you don’t want me to—” She broke off when I shot her a look. “Sorry. Thank you.”
I nodded once and headed for the door. I debated the merits of driving over. It might make bringing the food back simpler. At the same time? I had a good spot on the street and those were hard to come by. Megan said she wasn’t in a rush, so I’d just walk. It was a nice evening for it.
I liked the small-town feel of Old Town. The cobblestone streets were charming, if a bit of a pain for walking. Trees lined the street and added interest to the brick buildings that made up the bulk of the shopping area. If I concentrated just a little, I could forget I was just a hop, skip, and jump from DC, and that outside the borders of Old Town was a bustling metropolitan area, complete with ridiculous amounts of traffic.
Mia’s patio seating was bustling. If Megan didn’t have the bookstore evening hours, I’d definitely want to spend an evening out there with her, enjoying a meal and watching the people walk by.
Gosh, I had it bad.
