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Donny and I follow him to a private table in the back of the darkened restaurant. Why do restaurants think people like to eat in the dark, anyway? I don’t get it.
The tuxedoed maître d’ holds a chair out for me and then unfolds and places my napkin on my lap. Cushy.
“Your server will be with you in a moment, and the sommelier will be around with the wine list.”
“We won’t be having wine,” Donny says. “Just cocktails.”
“As you wish.” He bows and departs.
“I might go for a glass of wine,” I say.
“Oh? Sorry. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. You said—”
“I’m kidding.” I smile. “I wish I liked wine more, since it’s my family’s chosen business and all.”
“I’ve told you before. Dad and Dale think I’m nuts that I don’t enjoy wine and bourbon much.”
Our server comes by, leaving a cocktail menu.
I glance over it. “Hmm. Pomegranate margarita. That sounds up your alley.”
Donny grins. God, he’s good-looking.
“It does, at that. I think I’ll try one. What looks good to you?”
“It’s a tough call. Either the pomegranate margarita or the pineapple martini.”
“Get that one,” he says. “We can taste each other’s.”
“Good enough.” I close the menu.
The server returns and takes our drink orders, leaving dinner menus. I open mine. The prices are exorbitant. I stop myself from gasping.
“Do you like calamari?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Let’s get some. Anything else?”
The calamari is twenty-five dollars. Must be squid from a royal family or something. “No. That’s plenty. I don’t like to fill up on bread and appetizers. It ruins dinner.”
Donny laughs. “You don’t know the Steels. We can eat!”
I can eat as well, but at these prices… Just no.
The server returns, and Donny orders the calamari.
“Are you ready to order your dinner as well, sir?”
“I’m sorry. We haven’t really looked. Unless you’re ready, Callie?”
“Actually I am,” I say. “I’ll have the Rocky Mountain Trout with drawn butter.”
“Any sides?”
“Roasted asparagus, I think.”
“Any soup or salad?”
And add another twenty bucks to the bill? “No, thank you.”
“And you, sir?”
“Ten-ounce filet, rare, with sautéed mushrooms. Loaded mashed potatoes and roasted broccoli, please. House salad with Italian vinaigrette.”
“That was easy,” I remark, once the server leaves.
“Can’t beat the beef here.”
Steel beef is the best. We raise a little bit of beef on our ranch, but it’s far from our main operation. We’re mostly a winery.
Were a winery, anyway.
“Tell me,” Donny says. “What were you doing at Murphy’s last night?”
How does he know I was there? And why didn’t he bring this up on our two-hour drive if it’s bugging him? “Having a drink with Maddie. It was her idea.”
“I see.”
“How did you even know I was there?”
“Dale and I saw you walking with Brendan.”
“Oh.” My cheeks warm. “Yeah, he walked me to my car.”
“Nice of him.”
Donny’s tone indicates something other than nice, though.
“Yeah, it was. You can’t be too careful. As a woman, I mean. Walking after dark.”
As a rule, I believe my words. But Snow Creek is hardly dangerous, even in the dead of night.
“True,” Donny says. “I’ll have to thank him.”
“For what?”
“For making sure you were safe, of course.”
His comment is sweet, but it grates just a little. I both want him and don’t want him to worry about my safety. I’ve always been fiercely independent. In fact, I’d balked when Brendan offered to walk me to my car, but he insisted. And in the end, I do agree that women need to be cautious, even in a safe town such as Snow Creek.
“I already thanked him,” I say.
“I’m sure you did.”
His tone is… I’m not sure.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m sure you’re polite and that you thanked him. There’s no hidden meaning, Callie.”
Right. Take words at face value. Not my strong suit. I don’t want to ruin this evening just because I’m still upset about the fire and law school.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Are you a little on edge?” he asks. “You didn’t talk much on the drive.”
“I’m fine. Just…nothing.”
“What? You can tell me.”
I sigh. “I want this evening to be nice.”
“Nothing will stop that. I’m really happy to be here with you, Callie.”
I smile, my cheeks warming further. “I’m happy to be here with you too.”
“We can go as slow as you want,” he says.
Slow? We’ve already screwed. I’m not sure how slowly we can go at this point. I’m not sure I want to go slowly.
Which confuses me even more.
I’m hardly the screw anything with a pulse type.
And I know the man across from me is that very type.
Our cocktails arrive, and I take a sip of the pineapple martini, wincing slightly.
“Okay?” Donny asks.
“Yeah. It’s good. Just…a lot of vodka.” I flash back to the double screwdriver I drank last evening. Also strong. Only one, since I was driving home myself. Maddie got a ride with one of the foursome.
“You want to try mine?” He pushes the pomegranate margarita toward me.
