“What deal?”
“To have this place to ourselves.”
I blink. “What?”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing major. I figured it would be nice not to be bothered for pictures or conversations while we’re out together for once.”
“Isn’t that the point of all of this, though?”
His eyes meet mine, and he leans back so casually in the booth that if I didn’t know him well enough, I’d assume the gesture wasn’t a loaded one. His arms are resting on the tabletop, sparkling blue eyes burning right through me like he thinks this question is a test.
Is it?
“You aren’t a spectacle, Red,” he says, after some thought. “You deserve some time outside of the circus, too.”
I resist the urge to remind him I have plenty of moments outside of the circus. I have my time at the hospital, the days with my friends, and my evenings alone at home. I don’t need extra breaks. All of this has been manageable.
I don’t say anything, though. I don’t want to ridicule his kind gesture. Ilikethat he did this for me. I love that he considered my feelings at all. It warms my heart to know that he cares enough to do that. Forme.
Regrettably, I like spending rare moments in the shadows and away from the fanfare with Carter Forkerro, even if they aren’t a part of the deal.
“Good evening,” a woman in her early forties says,approaching the table. She’s in a black shirt with that same skulled logo on the right side of her chest, and an apron tied around her waist. No pad of paper in hand. She’s equipped with nothing but her smile. “Your first round of appetizers will be out in a few moments. Did we want to start the tasting now?”
Carter turns to her and nods. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Great. I’ll bring that right out.”
When she scurries away, I turn to look at him. “Tasting?”
Carter smiles a gentle, soft smile that I rarely see on that face. No blatant charm. No cockiness. Pure sweetness.
“This place is famous for their chicken wings. They’ve been on, like, ten television specials for them.”
“We’re tasting chicken wings?” I ask, and my stomach grumbles. They aren’t nuggets, but they’re close.
He shakes his head. “No. Well, yes, that too, but that’s not why we’re here. They’re famous for their chicken wings, but they’re also famous for their rare wine selection.”
My brows jump upward. That’s the sexiest sentence I have ever heard.
“They import wine from all over the world. Rare bottles, expensive bottles, unique stuff—the works. They host these wine tastings every month that people fight to get tickets for. We’re going to sample their reds tonight, Red.”
My heart dips and twirls and flutters until my stomach is swarming with a cluster of butterflies. I’m fully smiling now, my voice getting caught in my throat. “You brought me to a wine tasting?”
He nods, eyes softening as they search mine. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
“I will,” I tell him, my chest tightening at the thoughtfulness. “I know we haven’t even had a sip yet, but this might be the best date I’ve ever been on.”
His brows skyrocket. He drops his head like he didn’t hear me properly. “What?”
“Very thoughtful.”
He’s still staring at me. “Has…nobody ever done something thoughtful for you before?”
I shake my head because it’s the truth. Guys have long since stopped being gentlemen. In an age of social media, finding a good man is a rarity. The world doesn’t breed men anymore, it breeds boys. Obsessed with the next hottest girl on their Instagram. Thrilled by the next best thing rather than their greatest achievement, waiting for them at home. Men are unable to water their own grass because they’d rather gawk at the lawn next door.
Dates nowadays are drinks and dinners, and a few months of texting back and forth. There is no real effort. No real charm to it all. Eventually, the texts slow, the dates dwindle to nothing, and that person becomes a stranger, like they were just a few weeks prior.
Dating in the present day isn’t for the weak.
