He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the restaurant, ignoring my question. “Come on, I’m starving.”
The restaurant had a bar stretching around the open kitchen. Jamie explained that it was designed so guests could get an up-close experience with the chefs, who prepared their signature dishes and offered the guests wine pairings. The restaurant, called Beijar, was finely decorated and lit, with dark, rich booths and muted lighting against the stark light from the kitchen. The effect highlighted the clean, stainless-steel counters and drew my eyes to where the magic happened. I had no doubt Beijar was an experience as much as it was a meal.
We took our seats on the stools at the kitchen bar. Before Chef Mark came in, I swiveled toward Jamie. “Where did they get the name from?”
“It means ‘kiss’ in Portuguese.” When I was with Jamie I forgot about everything else. Just the word “kiss” coming out of his mouth could freeze time.
“Oh.”
“Food is like love, you know?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
“We need it to stay alive.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And wine is like poetry.”
His words, his warmth, were like a stun gun to my brain. I was conscious of nothing but his words. “Oh?”
“If it’s good wine.” He revealed his dimple. “If not, then it’s a tragedy.”
I realized that he had dimples on both cheeks, but his smile was always just a little crooked so it only showed up one side. Adorable.
“Is it Portuguese food?”
“Not really. There’s a little inspiration, but it’s traditional American, farm to table.”
Chef Mark entered. “Hi, Kate.” He reached over and shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Chef.” He wore the standard white chef’s shirt and a black bandana across his hair, tied at the back of his neck. He was an average-looking guy of forty, at least, but his presence was strong. I imagined that he could command a busy kitchen of chefs and servers.
Jamie reached over, shook his hand as well, and said, “Chef.”
“Hey, buddy.” Clapping once, he suggested, “Why don’t we start with a salad trio?”
“That sounds fabulous.” Jamie got us glasses of water and opened a bottle of the Pinot while Chef Mark got to work. He poured me a glass but only poured himself a quarter of the amount.
“Why so little for you? Are you sick of the wine?”
“No, I love the wine, but I can’t have too much because of the diabetes. I can taste it, though. I’d like to have some with you later, so I’m saving up.” My heart did a somersault.
Chef Mark set a plate in front of me, describing each of the four salads as he pointed them out. “Heirloom tomatoes. Avocado and corn in a light vinaigrette. Quinoa with mango and red peppers. And, finally, beet and kale with goat cheese. Enjoy.”
I took a bite of the avocado coated in dressing. Jamie watched my mouth as I chewed.
“What do you taste?” he asked.
“Shallots and lemon and avocado.” I took a bite of the tomato. “That is perfection.”
“We grow those in a hothouse on the estate. The big tomatoes are harder to grow outside in this region.”
Chef Mark asked me how I was enjoying the salads. He mentioned that there weren’t a ton of vegetarian dishes on the menu but that he would try his best to make accommodations.
“Well, I eat seafood, too.” Jamie and Chef Mark both jerked their heads back.
Leaning in, Chef Mark spoke in the gentlest voice. “You are not a vegetarian, sweetie. You’re a pescetarian.”
“That sounds like a religion.”
Jamie laughed and looked over at me with a pitying expression. It was funny how I had berated Stephen on the very topic of being a vegetarian, but here I was getting lectured myself.
“This opens up many possibilities for us. Halibut or salmon, which would you prefer?” Chef Mark asked.
“Surprise me.”
“This opens up possibilities for me, too,” Jamie said, turning his body toward me.
“How’s that?”
He took my fork and stabbed the last piece of avocado off my plate and held it to my mouth. I opened for him. “I like feeding you. I want to take you into the city tomorrow night for dinner. Will you let me do that?” I had swallowed the avocado and now my mouth was hanging open. I must have looked like a moron. He shook his head and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “There’s no more. It’s all gone, angel.” I shut my mouth and shook my head, inhaling through my nose deeply to clear my head. I still couldn’t believe his effect on me.
“So, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”
“Okay.” Positively, undeniably, absolutely, emphatically, definitely, one hundred percent YES!