The restaurant wasn't crowded—apparently most people knew how much western Washington sucked and avoided it. The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Fredward. Either she was an army recruiter, or a horny bitch. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me. She was several inches taller than I was, and unnaturally blonde.189
"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that or not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, non-contact space Fredward kept between us. I sighed. She led us to a table big enough for four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor. She wanted us to keep it public, for whatever reason.
I sighed, and was about sit, but Fredward shook his head at me.
"Perhaps something more... private?" he insisted quietly to the host, cupping a bit of her butt into his enormous hands. I wasn't sure, but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never seen anything like it except in old movies.
"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths—all of them empty. "How's this?"
"Perfect." He smashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.
"Um"—she shook her head, blinking wildly —"your server will be right out." She walked away unsteadily.
"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized.
"Do what?"
"Dazzle them like that—she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now. You probably killed her."
He seemed confused.
189. Bella assumes that all men, specifically Fredwards, like tall blondes.