“Good evening, Miss, where would you like your dinner?”
“Um … oh … on the table, please,” I mumbled. “Do you take credit card?”
“Oh, Miss, no worries. Dr. Colton took care of it.” He arranged the dinner on the dining room table. “Have a pleasant evening, enjoy your dinner.” He turned and made a beeline for the door, quietly shutting it behind him.
I cringed at my lack of city manners. Sierra NEVER went without tipping, she would have killed me. I let out a giant sigh and headed toward the table. Sushi.
Wrangel didn’t do sushi. And I managed in the last three years to avoid it like the plague.
“Dinner.” His voice was sexy as hell. “Sit. You must be starving.” He barked instructions like he was still in the OR.
He made his way over to the table, while my eyes fixed on his unruly wet locks hanging down his forehead. I should have been formulating a coherent way of articulating how odd and borderline inappropriate it was for me to even be here, but instead I focused on how everything below tingled with the thought of running my fingers through that hair.
“You know, I really should be getting home, I don’t want to impose. I agreed to come because I thought we’d go over patients for tomorrow. It has been a long day and I’m exhausted.” I reached for my bag.
“Stay.” He didn’t even attempt to make it sound like a question. He pulled out a dining room chair and sat.
“Excuse me?” My anxiety peaked. It was really time to politely excuse myself.
“Stay, have dinner, I invited you.”
“You did?”
“I said I was starving and I know you must be and-” he paused, thinking. He bit his lower lip and ran his hands through his yummy dark chocolate brown hair.
I inhaled deeply then bit my lower lip so hard I thought I tasted blood.
“I thought you would join me. I told you I would feed you later. Sit?”
This time, it sounded more like a question. Not that it mattered, my body was not going to let me leave, even though my mind was screaming to get the hell out of there.
“Um, well okay, but I really can’t stay long.” I pulled out the chair across from him and sat, fidgeting with my nails. Why was I so nervous? I was acting totally ridiculous, but this felt oddly similar to a first date, even though I haven’t had one of those in, well ... years.
“Fine. Beer or sake?” he asked.
I looked at the table and inwardly cringed. The piece of art in front of me was unfortunately a table full of colorful sushi. Too bad we couldn’t sit and just admire it all night. My stomach did another flip-flop. A slow wave of nausea rolled through me. I should have bolted when I had the chance.
“Sake?”
“Yes, sake—Japanese rice wine, goes with sushi—you want some?”
Couldn’t pass up wine, I needed something to diffuse this anxiety.
“Um ... sure.”
“I’m gonna grab a beer from the fridge and a shot glass.” He stood up and headed for the kitchen.
I reached for a large wine glass from his mahogany credenza and proceeded to pour myself a very large glass of sake—I thought that’s what he called it. I lifted my glass to take my first sip when he returned with a beer in one hand, shot glass in the other.
“Thirsty, huh ... guess you don’t need the shot glass.” A small chuckle left those sexy lips.
Shot glass? Why the hell did I need a shot glass? “Ahh ... no ... ahhh, sorry I helped myself. Just a very long day ... um, figured you didn’t need to wait on me.”
“Relax, Blue.”
I must have sounded like a bumbling idiot. I needed to get a freaking grip. I stared down at my cloudy wine. Why’s it cloudy? I had not a minute longer to analyze. I took a huge swig. The burn was exactly what I needed.
“Blue.”
I looked up. And squinted with I’m sure a very confused look on my face. Is he calling me blue?
“Help yourself.”
There was no way in hell that raw fish was coming anywhere near my mouth.
“I’m really not that hungry ... I had a big lunch with Kate. I’ll just have some of that aa-aa-” The very green looking salad type dish caught my eye. “Some of that ... salad.” I pointed to the fluorescent lime green heap.
He laughed. “You’re joking, you’re not just eating seaweed salad. For one, I’m not convinced you even had lunch, and two, if you did, that was like eight hours ago. Seven of those were in an OR with me.” He shook his head and frowned.
I didn’t hear anything past seaweed. I was silently trying to control my gag reflex. I picked up my glass and took a giant swig, trying to tame the lump in my throat. What the hell have I gotten myself into? On so many levels…
“You’ve never had sushi, have you?” He cockily turned up his lips.
“Well, I … um, grew up in a really small town up north—when I say small I mean small, like population six hundred and fifty-two small—sushi was not an option.”
He grinned, clearing enjoying the fact that I had never had sushi. “Well, you have to give it a chance ... here.” His chopsticks expertly picked up a beautifully wrapped little parcel and placed it on my plate.
Was it possible to be turned on by watching someone flex their forearm? Those tingles continued.
“This one isn’t raw, it’s a California roll. Try it.”
I pulled my eyes from his chiseled arms to admire the pink and green hues. “It’s just too pretty to eat.” I giggled. Shit. I giggled. I was buzzed already, enough to giggle. Crap. Mental note. Baby nursery in pink and green. Damn, I needed to stop procrastinating. There was no damn way he was letting me leave without trying a piece. I took another rather large swig of sake; it was now or never. Only thing to lose was my stomach contents.
I liked Chinese food, so I was pretty savvy with chopsticks. I picked up the roll and popped it in my mouth, chewed twice and swallowed. Chase sat, arms crossed, critiquing my every move. My eyes bounced back to his perfectly tanned arms and sculpted biceps tugging on his dark charcoal t-shirt. The distraction helped me get through the chewing and swallowing part.
He smiled. “What’d ya think? Did you even taste it? I’m not sure you even chewed.”
I chugged my remaining sake, washing it down. “It wasn’t so bad.” I smiled back. I managed to eat three more pieces while I watched Chase consume at least three or four entire rolls. He had some appetite. I wondered where he stored it; the man didn’t have an ounce of body fat anywhere.
“You finished? Come.” He motioned for me to follow him over to the couch. I stood up and attempted to clean up our dinner dishes. I was tipsy. Seven hours in the OR must have dehydrated the hell out of me.
“Leave it, I’ll deal with it later.” He grabbed another beer from the fridge and headed toward the couch.
“You sure?”
“Lili, come.” He walked from the kitchen to his large sectional in the living room. My eyes roamed from his fitted dark jeans hanging so delectably from his hips back to the dark charcoal t-shirt spreading across his muscular back. Flashbacks from the scrub sink saturated my brain. My attraction to this man boggled my mind.
I was relieved he instructed to leave everything on the table. I needed a seat, definitely feeling light headed. My mind raced with some seriously dirty thoughts. Giving my glass a little refill, I headed toward the couch. The wine seemed to be working, even though it reminded me more of rubbing alcohol than wine. He obviously had a more refined palate than mine.
I kicked off my shoes and curled my legs up under my bottom. He stared at me and smirked.