Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“Wow,” she adjusted her purse on her shoulder as he took her hand, and they walked inside together. “This… is surprising.”
The host greeted them and escorted them to Kage’s table of choice. Up yonder where the windows were—a table with a view. After they were seated, offered menus and given the special of the day, they settled in across from one another. Nothing but the flicker of candlelight dancing on her face and the warmth of her presence bathing him in light.
Running her finger along her linen napkin, she looked about. “This place is nice. Thank you for bringing me here.” She picked up the menu and jammed her nose in it.
He hadn’t expected her to be so polite. With Poet, she ran hot and cold, but he understood why. She was trying to figure him out. Once she was comfortable, she’d always be medium rare and ready to be devoured…
“You’re mighty welcome.”
He cleared his throat and opened his own menu. The Rainbow Lodge was a huge log cabin that had formerly been a French restaurant, located out in the country, on the White Oaks Bayou. It was bought and transformed in the last twenty or so years, and turned into a surf and turf spot, with gorgeous rustic log walls, and various dining areas that featured distinctive views and accoutrements, many of which consisted of hunted game mounted up high as art.
“Do you come here a lot?”
He shrugged, stroking his beard. “Probably ’bout four or five times a year. Good atmosphere. Good eatin’. Me and some of the guys that work for me pop in here every now and again. It’s a lil’ out the way, so I don’t come as often as I’d like.”
The waiter showed up and took their drink orders: One Manhattan and a Lone Star beer.
“Kage, I’m not big on apologies. I figure people just say them to keep the peace, and I’d rather not be told that someone is sorry unless they mean it, but I want to apologize to you personally, from the bottom of my heart, if I went too far with the illiteracy and troll under the bridge jokes. It’s not in my character…” She paused, running her pretty little fingers through her curls which were pinned back on one side, and secured with a purple hair barrette. “…That’s a lie.” She smiled sadly. “It is in my character to talk to folks how I’d spoken to you if I feel like they need to be told a thing or two…
“But you and I got off on the wrong foot, and never fully resolved that. So please know, I never really believed you were illiterate, an idiot, or nothin’ of the sort. In fact, I felt like you were probably really smart, considerin’ you have a successful business, your unique but cool sense of style, and you seem in the know about many things, judging from our innumerable interactions over these past few weeks.”
He sniffed, and nodded. Nothing really needed to be said. Soon their drinks arrived, and they were relaxing. Falling into easy conversation.
“Exactly!” She chuckled. “Who has time to watch all of that TV?”
“Right.” He took another sip of his beer. “You know what you’re gettin’?”
“Mmm hmm, the dick. I mean the duck! The duck!”
She averted eye contact at that moment, trying to pretend nothing had happened, and he resisted laughing at her slip of the tongue.
The waiter returned just then to take their orders, then left them once more to their own devices. They sat there talking about everything from construction, her green house and his log cabin, boa constrictors, the mayor, and the potluck at her job. He told her how one of his guys quit to move and marry some lady from Alabama, and another guy he’d caught stealing supplies. The conversation flowed like the river. She made things sound interesting—even the most mundane parts of her life were framed in gold, and he enjoyed the way she spoke, how open she was with all sorts of personal tidbits, but most of all, he liked their differences.
She was about five foot seven. Not short for a woman, but definitely not tall. He towered over her, and he got a kick out of it. She had a natural calmness about her, all wrapped in hilarious sarcasm and sophistication. He was rough like a withered fall leaf, and cut like jagged glass. He wasn’t a motor mouth, and often kept quiet even when encouraged to share his views. She on the other hand loved to talk, but her words had meaning, including her jokes and deceptively mundane conversation. What they had in common was a strong work ethic, love of wildlife, nature, lovin’ the folks who loved them, and a need to break out of their own self-imposed prisons. A Kaged Poet.