Page 32 of Love Is Ale You Need

I shake my head. “No. I thought his truck looked familiar though.” I brush off any more thoughts of the truck. I’m sure it’s nothing.

During the twenty-minute drive from the housing development to downtown Harbor Highlands, we make small talk. Trey tells me about a new housing development that he’s involved with, and I tell him about a new movie I watched. Sadly, my life isn’t as exciting as his, but he hangs on to my every word and even asks questions as if he’s genuinely interested. I could talk about dirt, and it seems he’d still listen with interest.

By the time we reach downtown, the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow on the cityscape. Trey finds an open parking spot along the busy main street. I push open my door and Trey is already waiting for me with his elbow held out on the sidewalk. Unable to mask my smile, I link my arm in the crook of his as we stroll side by side. The air buzzes with a symphony of footsteps, laughter, and snippets of conversations. Illuminated storefronts pass by as we approach the middle of the block.

Up ahead, the awning of Tandoori, a fine dining Indian restaurant, comes into view. I’ve been there once, and the food was average at best, but it’s definitely out of my normal price range. My hand becomes clammy at the mere thought of the hefty price tag attached to dinner. I don’t want to be presumptuous about who’s paying for dinner, so I made sure to tuck a few twenties into my wallet.

Trey senses my nervousness and glances down. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Just a little chill in the air.”

“Do you want my jacket?”

“No. I’m okay.”

He drops my arm and takes his jacket off and throws it over my shoulders anyway.

His musky leather and spice scent surrounds me. I inhale another deep breath, wanting to savor his scent for as long as possible. “Thank you.” I smile up at him. “I thought maybe the long sleeves of the dress would be fine, but apparently not.”

As we approach Tandoori, I slow my pace, but Trey’s steps never falters.

After we pass the restaurant, I glance up at him. “Where are we going? I thought we were going to dinner?”

“Yes, but not there.”

There’s only one other restaurant within walking distance. We come to a stop at the crosswalk and wait for traffic to clear before crossing the road. Instead of following the main sidewalk, we veer left toward a side street. I press my lips together, biting back my smile because there is only one place we could be going.

“You mentioned your favorite food was Indian and the only restaurant that made sense was The Curry Kitchen.”

Now, I’m fighting my smile for an entirely different reason. “But why did you assume it was The Curry Kitchen? Because the other Indian restaurant is out of my price range?”

“No, because their food is crap and I know you have better taste than that. I’m sorry, curry foam should not be an appetizer. It’s foam.”

I laugh. Because he’s not wrong. Their food is steps below The Curry Kitchen. You definitely don’t get what you pay for with them.

When we reach the door, Trey holds it open for me. Immediately the tantalizing aroma of coriander, cumin, and cardamon invades my nostrils, creating an aromatic buffet that causes my stomach to growl.

The Curry Kitchen isn’t the usual restaurant. It’s more like the dive bar of restaurants, but they have the best Indian food that I’ve ever put in my mouth. The restaurant only holds roughly thirty customers at a time, with only a hand full of four person tables two person tables. With my hand in his, Trey leads me through the restaurant to a secluded corner to where an empty two person table is situated.

“Did you plan this out beforehand?” I ask as Trey takes his jacket from me and pulls out my chair.

“I had to if we were coming here.” He throws the jacket around the backrest of his chair and takes the seat across from me.

“But what if I picked the other card?”

“I guess you’ll never know.” A sly smirk covers his face.

Before I can ask any more questions, one of the two servers pass us each a single-sided paper menu.

As I scan the two columns, I search for any new dishes, but deep down, I know I'll end up ordering my usual. “I don’t even need to look. I already know what I’m getting.”

“And what’s that?”

“Chicken Tikka Masala.”

“I’m ordering the Tandoori Chicken and maybe some Samosas.”

“Those are so delicious. You can never go wrong with deep fried pastries filled with potatoes and peas.”

---