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Chad made small talk about the area while he drove—he was an instant expert at driving with his left foot, apparently—and she tried to pay attention to who had owned that bar when he’d used his fake ID and what friend of Chad’s had drunk straight out of the soda fountain at that convenience store and what sports memorabilia store used to be located in that strip mall, but she couldn’t concentrate. What important thing was he going to ask her? And why had he mentioned it so early in the evening? She couldn’t enjoy his company properly if her mind was racing.
“You seem distracted,” he commented as he drove into the parking lot of a large steakhouse.
“What can you possibly ask me about that’s important?” she blurted.
“It’s just about the house,” he said as he pulled into a parking spot far from other cars.
“I haven’t even seen the house yet,” she reminded him. Well, not officially.
“You will. Now, pretend I didn’t mention it. I’m going to need you to get me through this.” He took a deep breath and opened the door, scooting out of his seat and balancing on his foot as he pulled his crutches out. She opened her door and started to climb out, but stopped when he leaned into the interior of the car.
“Don’t you dare get out of that car,” he said.
She froze, one foot dangling out her door, and twisted around until she could see him. Had he changed his mind already?
“I will escort you,” he added before shutting the driver’s door and coming around to her side of the car.
She flushed when he took her hand and helped her out of her seat.
“Thank you.” She’d never dated a man who opened doors for her or escorted her anywhere. She’d thought she’d find such antiquated manners annoyingly patronizing, but in reality, his behavior made her feel treasured, feminine, and flustered all at once.
“I’d like to hold your hand,” he said, “but I don’t think I can manage it with the crutches.”
“I can hold onto your—”
“Ass? That wouldn’t be appropriate in public, angel.”
She flushed several degrees warmer. “I was going to say arm.”
“Sure you were.” He winked at her. “But that might work.”
He actually had to slow himself down so her waddling form could keep up with him. Her back was starting to ache by the time they made it to the front door. “You need to apply for a handicap parking space,” she told him.
He scowled. “I’m perfectly capable of traversing a parking lot.”
“Not for you, for me. Why did you park so far from the door?”
“Because A, I don’t want anyone dinging my car with their doors, and B, you need the exercise. You’re out of shape. I’m going to start taking you to the gym with me.”
She groaned. She hated working out. She leaned close to his ear and said, “Can’t we just have more sex? That’s exercise.”
He laughed but didn’t tell her if he considered that a good enough workout to get her in shape. He spoke to the hostess instead. “Reservations for two under the name Mitchell.”
The hostess fixed her gaze on the empty space under the right leg of Chad’s shorts before swiveling that gaze upward and smiling warmly. “Your table is ready,” she said. She grabbed a couple of menus and dashed to a table at the far corner of the restaurant. Again with the excess traveling, Lindsey thought, rubbing her lower back with both hands.
“I owe you a massage after this,” Chad told her.
She had a few other things in mind, but she poked him in the belly. “Yes, you do.”
Heads turned as they passed through the restaurant, and an undercurrent of whispers followed them all the way to their table. Varying degrees of sadness and pity covered each face they passed. Lindsey received several sad smiles as well. She read several of those looks as saying, I’m sorry you’re stuck with him, interspersed with at least one Dear God, you’re huge. Your back must be killing you.
This was the first time Lindsey had been out with Chad anywhere but to the physical therapist’s office. People did stare. Part of her was glad he’d ventured out despite the rudeness, but part of her wanted to poke out every pair of eyes trained on his back.
He pulled out her chair and then circled around to his side of the table, leaning his crutches against the wall before flopping into his seat. “That part still needs work,” he said.
“What part?”
“Sitting. You’d think standing would be the hardest thing to do with one leg, but it’s harder for me to sit gracefully than to stand.”
“You’re still more graceful than I am at the moment.” She patted her belly.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess said. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Lindsey reached for her menu, trying hard not to glare at the rubbernecking man at the next table. Let them stare. And fuck him.
“You can’t go wrong with any steak on the menu,” Chad told her, flipping open his menu. “I’ve heard the chicken and the pork chops are also fantastic, but I’ve never ventured from their red meat selections.”
She wasn’t sure she could handle red meat. Her stomach was simmering with building anger, which only heightened when Rubber-Neck Man stood from his table and approached theirs.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, “but are you Sergeant Chad Mitchell?”
Chad glanced up from his menu, the surprise on his face evident. “Not a sergeant any more—I didn’t reenlist—but yeah, I go by Chad. Have we met?”
“No, no we haven’t,” the man said, reaching out a hand, which Chad took for a vigorous shake. “I read about you in the paper. You’re some hero. Record number of IEDs identified and diffused.”
“The dog did most of the work.”
Lindsey had always wanted to ask Chad about his deployment, but he never wanted to talk about his past. She could tell by the current tension in his body that he certainly didn’t want to discuss his time overseas with this stranger.
“Sorry to interrupt your evening,” the man said, “but I had to come over and thank you for serving our country so selflessly and saving so many lives.”
Chad averted his gaze, his face unreadable. “I appreciate that, sir.”
“This is that local Marine, Chad Mitchell!” the man said, shaking Chad’s hand even harder and smacking him on the back repeatedly. The restaurant patrons clapped and cheered.
“Is this your wife?”
The man smiled at Lindsey, who cringed.
“No, sir. This is our first date actually.”
Chad cocked his head as he grinned at Lindsey, and heat rose up her neck. God, he was gorgeous when he looked at her like that.
The man screwed up his face as he took in Lindsey’s advanced condition. He obviously didn’t find her first-date material.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” he said, giving Chad another smack on the back before releasing his hand and returning to his table.
“It’s nice to be recognized,” Lindsey said, though she was seventeen shades of uncomfortable at the moment, and she couldn’t read what Chad was feeling from his expression. She needed to look up the article the man had referred to. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned that you saved a bunch of lives?”
He swallowed and licked his lips. “Because I didn’t.”
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Then why did he—”
“Not directly.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Their server arrived, halting the conversation, and Lindsey wasn’t sure if she was glad or disappointed that their tense conversation had been interrupted.
“What can I get you to drink?” the petite brunette asked.
Chad ordered a beer, which sounded almost as good as wine, but Lindsey settled on the pregnancy-safe choice of ginger ale.
“People drink that stuff on purpose?” Chad asked.
“It settles my stomach,” she said.
“You’re uncomfortable now,?
?? he said. “Are you sorry you came?”
“Of course not. I love spending time with you.”
“You just prefer not to be seen with me.”
Lindsey blinked. “Of course, I want to be seen with you. Where is this coming from?”
“You keep glaring at everyone.”
That had nothing to do with him and everything to do with them. “Because they won’t stop staring at us,” she said in a harsh whisper.
“Maybe they’re staring because I’m so sexy.” He pretended to sweep a lock of hair behind one ear.
She grinned, some of the tension melting from her spine. “I’m not sure about them, but that’s why I stare.”
“Relax.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Don’t worry about them. Concentrate on me. I get off on your attention.”
“That wouldn’t be appropriate in public,” she said.
When their drinks arrived, they both ordered steak. Lindsey’s stomach had settled now that she was ignoring everyone but Chad.
“When do I get to see the house?” she asked.
“I want to get all the demolition out of the way first. You shouldn’t breathe in the dust.”
“Just how much are you demolishing?”
“Just the kitchen, the current laundry room slash powder room, an upstairs closet, and the master bathroom. Widening a doorframe or two.”
“Is that all?”
“The house has great bones.” He took a sip of his beer. “Literally. I found several raccoon skeletons in the corner of the attic.”
“Ew.”
