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Then her walls go straight back up.

“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” Courtney continues. “You always said you didn’t have time to date.”

“Being a full-time single dad doesn’t leave much room for it,” I remind her.

Her lips press into a thin line. “You don’t have to throw that in my face.”

“I wasn’t throwing anything,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my jaw. “I was answering your question.”

“Right.” Courtney releases a slow breath. “Tell Aspen I’ll try to call this weekend.”

Try.

“Sure.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

The screen goes black before I can respond.

* * *

Salt & Oak is apparently where you take a woman when you want her to know you’re taking her on a date.

At least, according to Knox.

And Logan.

And my mother, who somehow found out where I was taking Blair before I’d even told her.

Now I’m sitting across from Blair with a beer in my hand, wondering when dinner became more intimidating than rebuilding a transmission.

No Aspen.

No festival.

No convenient excuse for why Blair Morgan is sitting across from me looking like that.

Just me, her and the very real possibility that I’m about to fuck this up.

Salt & Oak is busy for a Friday night, the low hum of conversation mixing with the acoustic music playing overhead. We’re sitting in a booth near the windows, candlelight catching in Blair’s hair whenever she moves.

I’ve known her a month.

Somehow, that fact is becoming less reassuring by the day.

“You’re doing it again,” Blair says without looking up from her menu.

“Doing what?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Staring.” She glances at me over the top of the menu, smiling.

I take a sip of my beer. “Maybe I like looking at you.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks.

Fuck, I like that too.

Blair lowers her menu and leans back in the booth. “G tells me your family owns this place.”