“I don’t drink wine a lot,” Seth admitted.
“I didn’t used to,” Chris said, reaching across the table for Seth’s hand. When he clasped it, he smiled. “I knew I needed to learn, though, in order to work in catering. Plus I cook with some wines, too.”
“You chose a white wine, right?”
“Yes. White is always good for seafood, but a soft red will go with fish, too.”
“What’s a ‘soft’ red?” Seth asked, his brow furrowing.
“Soft reds, or light reds, are smoother and have the aroma of red fruit, like cherries and raspberries.”
“I thought wine was made from grapes?”
“Yes, but there are many other fruits that can be added as well.”
Their salads arrived and Seth reluctantly let go of Chris’s hand and unrolled his napkin, letting the flatware slide out, then placed the fabric on his lap. The salad was crisp and fresh, and the Blue Cheese dressing was just the way he liked it—creamy with bits of the cheese still there. He took a sip of his wine.
“What do you think?” Chris asked.
“It’s good. Kind of sweet,” Seth admitted before he took another sip.
“I’m glad you like it. Maybe we could go to a wine tasting event sometime.”
Seth stared back at him and his lips quirked up in a smile. “Sounds fun,” he said, then took another bite of the salad.
They ate in silence for a moment, each enjoying their food. Seth wondered at how comfortable he felt around Chris. Yes, he was nervous, but it was a good nervous. He looked up from his salad and caught Chris staring at him. His heart fluttered and his face heated. He tried to look away, but it was hopeless. All he could see were those beautiful blue eyes.
Seth swallowed hard and tried to think. “So, what made you get into catering?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be chef.” Chris set down his fork and leaned back into the booth. “At least since I was eight years old.”
“I wanted to be Batman when I was eight.”
“Hmmm, you’re a DC man?”
Seth straightened. “Oh, definitely. You?”
“I’ve always been a little of both—DC and Marvel.” His eyebrow rose and he leaned in. “Is that going to be a problem?” he teased.
Seth laughed out loud. “Nope. I admit to indulging in a little Marvel fun myself.” He pretended to look around to make sure no one heard him, then whispered, “But let’s keep that between us.”
Chris’s eyes danced as he bit back a chuckle. “Your secret is safe with me, Eggplant. As a matter of fact, I can’t wait to find out your other secrets.”
Seth shifted in his seat as Chris’s voice shot heat directly to his dick, and his balls tingled. He cleared his throat and tried to focus. “So why a chef?”
“When I was eight, I fell from a large, rocky hill. It was just behind our neighborhood and, of course, I wasn’t supposed to go there, but I did. My buddy and I had just watched a movie about a mountain climber—I don’t even remember what it was called now—so we decided to pretend we were climbing a mountain.” He paused and shook his head. “Wow, kids just don’t think,” he said with a small smile before he continued. “Anyway, we were pretty high up and I slipped. Next thing I knew, I was lying on myside, my temple against a small rock. My friend ran home to get my grandpa.” Chris tilted his head and looked at Seth. “Did I tell you my grandpa is the one that raised me?”
Seth shook his head, unsure if he should ask why. Chris answered before he could make a decision.
“My parents died when I was really young. Car accident. I don’t even remember them, but my grandpa made sure I knew all about them. Told me stories as I grew up.”
“That’s good that he did that. Was he your mom’s or your dad’s father?”
“My dad’s. And from all the pictures I’ve seen of my dad, they looked identical.” He glanced at Seth. “What about you? Do you resemble either of your parents?”
Seth smiled. “Not my mom and I don’t know about my dad. He took off before I was born and I’ve never met him.”
The corners of Chris’s mouth turned down. “I’m sorry.”
Seth shrugged. “We all have a story, right?”
Chris nodded and started to reach across the table just as the waitress arrived with their entrées. He pulled back his hand and they made room for the oversized plates, each pushing their salad to the side.