Coop stiffened, glaring at the group. “I can’t hear myself think.”
One man, in a tuxedo T-shirt, whom she assumed was the groom, downed his whiskey and slammed the shot glass upside down on the table. Applause and whistles followed.
She set her fork down and pushed her plate away, too.
“Are they bothering you?” Coop asked, looking at her half-eaten dinner.
“I can’t eat another bite. That steak was bigger than my head.”
“I didn’t mean your appetite.”
She considered the rowdy group and shook her head. “They’re loud. But it’s not… invasive.”
“Meaning?”
“Most of them are drunk, but happy. That’s easier to filter.”
His arm settled along the back of the booth, easy and intentional, like everything he did. When his thumb glided over her shoulder, she savored the warmth of his skin against hers, and the tingle a woman should feel for a man she was attracted to. No static, no noise, no emotional bleed-through.
When she turned toward him, he was watching her but again didn’t comment on her reaction.
“Want to stretch your legs and rest your ears?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“There’s a riverside park about two blocks from here.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He tossed bills onto the table, more than sufficient to cover the check and Carol’s generous tip, then he grabbed her hand and slid out of the booth. They left the music, laughter, and chanting behind but walked out into a downpour.
His frown deepened, clearly frustrated that things weren’t going as planned.
Smiling, she suggested, “If you don’t mind a twenty-minute drive, I know a place. No drunk grooms and bachelor cowboys, guaranteed.”
***
Coop followed in his truck. Between the storm, traffic, and two construction zones, they arrived nearly thirty minuteslater. They had to run through the steady rain, with minimal protection from the awning above her door, while she unlocked it. They were both damp when it swung inward, and she reached for the wall switches.
The track lighting came on gradually, revealing neutral walls and dark hardwood floors. Paintings lined the open, flowing space. She loved her gallery and turned to see what he thought.
He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his damp hair, looking pale beneath his tan.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“From fright. After watching you blow through a stale yellow at Main and swerve to avoid that black SUV on Fifth.”
She frowned. The light had barely turned yellow, and she hadn’t noticed a black SUV. She replied more than a little defensively, “There was a glare on top of poor visibility.”
His voice was lower and more controlled as he continued. “You were pushing seventy in a forty-five.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I was behind you, Erica! When road conditions deteriorate, you slow down. Not speed up.”
She crossed her arms. In the mood for a date, not a lecture, although that was quickly changing. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver. I’ve never once had so much as a fender bender or a ticket.”
“I could change that tonight.” His voice wasn’t angry. It simmered.
