“Yes.” I giggle. “For a goat.”
The fairy lights twinkle overhead and I smile across the table at my dreamy date.
Thankfully we are eating seafood, not a goat’s ball in sight.
The conversation is smooth and witty and never seems to run dry; it’s so weird, Elliot and I really do get along very well. We laugh and talk and everything feels very organic between us. There’s a lot more to us than steaming hot sex . . . even though there does seem to be a lot of that.
Not that I’m complaining.
It’s a clear night in a beautiful outdoor terrace restaurant.
“You know, I think this would be one of the hardest jobs on earth,” I say as I crack open a crab claw.
“What would be?” Elliot says as he concentrates on the task at hand.
“Being a fisherman. Out in the elements, sun and wind. Never knowing what kind of catch or day it would be.” I put some shells into the dish provided.
“You’ve got to be kidding, sounds like the best job in the world to me. No suit, no pressure.” He pops some crab into his mouth. “No office assholes.”
I stop eating as I stare at him. “You know, you really are a surprise. You’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
Amusement flashes across his face as he sips his wine. “Don’t be deluded, Kate, I’m everything that you thought.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m in holiday mode and it’s seven days.” His eyes hold mine.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I can’t give you more than seven days.”
Why the fuck would he say that?
I stare at him for a moment and then I continue to crack my crab claw with my pliers. It feels like he’s giving me a warning.
“When was your last girlfriend?”
“Years ago.”
“How come?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know, me and relationships don’t mix.”
I stay silent, unsure what to say to that.
“When was your last relationship?” he asks.
“Serious relationship, six years ago.” I sip my wine. “I thought he was the one.”
“And he wasn’t?” He keeps his eyes on his task.
“Obviously not.”
“What happened?”
“A lot of things, can we talk about something else?”
His eyes rise to hold mine and he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed with my short answer.
“Look, I get it. You don’t want anything for more than a week and that’s fine with me.”
He picks up his drink and sips it, clearly annoyed.
“I’m sure that you have every woman in the Western world in love with you, Elliot, but I can assure you that I won’t be one of them. You are not the type of man I would fall for long-term.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I snap.
We eat in silence for a while.
“I should have fed you goat’s balls,” he mutters dryly.
“You already did,” I say. “On the plane.”
He smirks and then, unable to hold it, breaks into a broad smile. “And you loved them.”