"Uh." Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thankful that she had been here enough times to know her favorite wine. "A glass of the Chateau merlot."
"Make that two," Thatcher said.
"Right away!"
The waiter left and she turned back to see Thatcher still staring at her again.
"You know, I thought it was kind of a coincidence when I saw your phone number on that paper. Your name is Willow Wolf like the name of my date, Le Loup."
"Oh god, you're Lightning Bolt, like Thunder."
"So you have heard of me," he said with a wry smile.
"Do you know who you are?" she whispered loudly. "You're a football star, like a huuuuge football star."
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, I know. You didn't seem bothered by that the last time we had dinner."
"I didn't know you were…youthe last time we had dinner," she stammered.
"So when did you figure it out?"
She took a deep breath. "When I googled you."
"And when did you google me?" he asked quietly.
"When I was in your bed after you fell asleep."
His lips pulled into a tight smile, and she realized that she had admitted something he hadn't wanted to hear. Did he like that she didn't know he was a big football star? That she treated him like someone she didn't recognize because she really didn't recognize him?
And if that was the case, she had played all of this wrong. She had left his apartment without a note because she thought she was just another woman that this Chicago sports star hadslept with. He wouldn't want to wake up next to his latest conquest who should know that you don't stay over after a night like this. Not to mention that she was someone who had to be at the Merc trading metals at 8:30 in the morning.
"Merlots for each of you." The waiter put two glasses on the table, but Willow just kept staring at her date across from her. "Would you like to order?"
Thatcher turned and gave him that sports-star smile of his. "Could you give us a few minutes?"
Their waiter walked away, and Thatcher turned his attention back to her. "So you googled me while lying in my bed, and then you left without a word."
"I just… I was so embarrassed." Willow leaned back against her chair and closed her eyes. "I told you I wanted a poster of Warren Buffett on my wall, and copper is where it's at, and who the hell even says that?"
"Willow."
"And then I went home with you and had sex with you and googled you and—"
"Willow."
She took a breath and opened her eyes. Thatcher was still staring at her, but now he had a soft smile on his face instead of the strained look from before. He reached his hand out across the table for her to grab, but she just sat there staring at his palm.
"It's OK, Willow," he said gently.
She gave him an awkward smile, then leaned forward and slipped her hand into his. It was warm and a bit calloused, and as his fingers gently closed around hers, she noticed his eyes flutter shut for just a moment as he took a deep breath. Then he looked at her in a way that made her actually feel seen.
"I'm just a man, Willow. Just a guy named Thatcher, OK?" She nodded. "And I will admit that I have googled copper several times since that dinner with you, and it really is where it's at."
Willow couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up inside her, and she could feel some of the tension release from her shoulders. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad date after all.
Thatcher smiled and pulled his hand away to reach for his menu, but her skin still felt warm from where it had been.
"Did you see the spicy mussels on the menu?" he asked.
