Upsie-Daisy by Jane Lebak

Upsie-Daisy by Jane Lebak

Author:Jane Lebak
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: chick lit, chicklit, romantic comedy, contemporary romance, strong women, guardian angels, humor
Publisher: Philangelus Press
Published: 2017-03-29T04:00:00+00:00


Chapter Three

The best pairing since vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce

Dr. Myron wants to meet at a restaurant with a generic name, but come on, we’re in Manhattan. Why would you eat a hamburger when you could walk twenty feet down the block and consume a replica meal of the festival from when Nebuchadnezzar was named King of Babylon, complete with gardens hanging over your head?*

There is, therefore, only one solution.

Thirty minutes before scheduled arrival time, I arrive at the restaurant and struggle not to die of boredom while reading the menu. Hooray, you can get sautéed mushrooms on your steak.

Twenty-nine minutes before scheduled arrival time, I head back out the door and walk five blocks up Fifth Avenue, then cross over to Fourth and walk ten blocks back down. Then I return to Fifth and turn back toward the restaurant.

Ten minutes before arrival time. I plant myself at the door because the guy’s a scientist, and he’s either going to be on-time or early. My toes tell me they're frozen. My breath frosts away from me, but my hands are warm where they hide in my pockets. I've got the purse strap cross-wise from my left shoulder to under my right arm, tucked down: the native New Yorker stance.

From Bucky: Incoming.

And with that, Dr. Myron arrives. “Lee!” He smiles. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

He takes my arm to guide me inside, but instead I tug him back toward the center of the sidewalk. “Wait! You have no idea of this cool place I found on the way here!”

Bucky in my head huffs at the lie, but it’s more polite in this case than, “Really, you want to spend twenty bucks on something you’ve already eaten a thousand times?”

Variety, my friends. Variety. That’s why I stop him at the front door of a place that says it makes Shojin, the food of Ancient Buddhist monks who had vowed to do no harm to the world and therefore subsisted on a diet of vegetables, grains, and flowers. I’m not the kind of gal who wants a guy to bring flowers, but if you deep-fry me a rose, I promise to take a bite.

Myron looks less than thrilled. “This is...I’ve never tried food like this before.”

I brighten. “Excellent! So it will be new to both of us.”

He’s got no readable expression on his face whatsoever, and that’s not a good sign. Usually guys will give me a hint as to why they think whatever I’ve suggested is out of their comfort zone, sometimes subtle things like, “You’re insane. Only bunnies eat flowers.” But Dr. Scientist is just kind of...studious.

Finally he says, “I don’t think I’d like this.”

I have a plan B. “There’s an Australian restaurant two blocks from here. We could eat kangaroo steak.”

Myron shakes his head. “Let’s just head back to the bistro.”

Oh well. Maybe they’ll have awesome desserts, like a chalice full of frozen hot chocolate drizzled with a spicy cherry sauce.

And the view is nice enough. Not out the window – I mean the view across the table.



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