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“Nah, they’re all still a good eight to ten hours away from delivering.”
“You hope.”
“You’re right, I do. Now, where were we?”
Timothy reaches across the table and sets his hand on mine. My first instinct is to pull away. I mean, I barely know this guy, but his skin is warm and soft, and it’s been forever since I’ve been touched by a normal, smart, good-looking man, so I decide to leave it.
Before I can respond, he spots my glass of wine and frowns.
“The waiter was already here?”
“Yes. Sorry, I would’ve ordered you a drink, but I wasn’t sure what you would want.”
“It’s okay.”
When I see Ethan at a nearby table, I raise my hand to flag him down. He smiles at me from across the room, finishes what he’s doing, and then comes over to us.
“Good evening, sir. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Timothy’s face pales when he looks at Ethan. His lips part, but nothing comes out as Ethan peers down at him.
“A crown and coke, perhaps?” Ethan questions with a razor-sharp edge to his voice.
The air around us thickens with an uncomfortable tension while we wait for Timothy to answer.
“No.” Timothy clears his throat. He’s sweating bullets as he looks to me and then back at Ethan. “I’ll have the same as my date.”
“Which one?” Ethan mumbles beneath his breath. The words are so soft that I almost don’t hear them.
“Excuse me?” Timothy asks, his face going hard as stone.
“I said, merlot. Good choice. I’ll be right back with your drink and to take your order.”
“Thank you.”
Timothy pulls his hand from mine. “I don’t like him.”
“That was a little awkward.”
“Forget about him. What are you going to order?”
We both grab a menu, and I peruse the various entrée options. “It’s between the chicken Alfredo and the homemade lasagna.”
Timothy closes his menu, takes mine, and sets them down. “How about you order one and I’ll order the other? That way, you can try both.”
“Perfect.”
Ethan brings Timothy’s drink, takes our order, and walks away, but not before giving my date another hard look.
That’s weird. Ethan seemed so nice earlier.
“Tell me about your family,” I say. “Are you from around here?”
“I’m not. I’m from Tampa, which is where my parents and two brothers live.”
“How on Earth did you end up in Bourbon, Illinois?” Nestled fifteen minutes outside of Chicago, it allows for easy access to the city, while maintaining a somewhat small-town life. Don’t get me wrong, I love my hometown, but it’s a far cry from Tampa. “I’d take palm trees and sand over the city any day.”
“This is where the jobs were at the time. I got in with University hospital, and the rest is history.”
