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When I pulled up at Le Petit Bateau, I practically hummed with excitement. I’d dug around in my closet for something red to wear, and though the sweater was a little nicer than what Stella normally wore in honor of the holiday—as opposed to the usual tatters and tears—the black wig brought it to a whole new edge, one that made me feel cute.
I also made sure to deepen my blush and contour just in case Harry recognized me from Le Petit Bateau yesterday. He probably remembered the bumbling dork who spilled her water at the sight of him, and I needed to make sure he wasn’t about to connect any dots.
“Hey, you,” Harry greeted as he pulled the passenger’s side door open, bringing in a wave of cool air. Which was a good thing because my blood suddenly warmed. He wore his usual black ripped jeans and white shirt, his red hair pushed out of his face. As he settled into the seat, I realized he had something in his hand, and he offered it to me. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
A smile sprung to my lips at the small heart-shaped box of chocolates wrapped with a red ribbon. Harry had even gone to the trouble of writingTo Stella, From Harryon it, his handwriting blocky and purposeful.
“I know it’s nothing fancy,” he went on, “but everyone deserves a gift on Valentine’s Day.”
“I didn’t get you anything,” I said softly, guilty. As I looked at the gift, I realized my bangs hung a little in my eyes, almost too much—a sign I’d pinned the wig on wrong. As discreetly as possible, I ghosted my palm across the top of my head, trying to edge it back ever so slightly.
“You’re coming with me tonight. That’s gift enough.” Harry reached out and tapped one ringed finger against the heart. “Though if you offer me one of the fruit-filled ones, I wouldn’t say no.”
With a laugh, I opened up the chocolate box, the beautiful smell filling the air. I let him have first pick before I snatched a dark chocolate truffle, biting into half of it with a contented sigh. “Mmm, happy Valentine’s Day. So, where’s our first Dial and Dine stop?”
“Greenville,” Harry declared as he buckled himself in, then popping his chocolate into his mouth. The dashboard glow lit his face, and for a moment I couldn’t help but stare. Especially at his lips. “Have you been to Mary’s Place? The diner on Main? I’ve got an order to pick up from there. Or should I say,we’vegot an order.”
“Roger that.” I put the car into gear. “So, Dial and Dine…how did you get started with it?”
“Jumping right in with the questions,” he returned with a chuckle, rubbing his palms together. “I saw an ad online and thought it could be a nice way to make some extra cash. Diversifying my income and all that.”
I played dumb. “What other jobs do you have?”
“Well, the gigs bring in a small amount of money, but I work full-time as a server. At Le Petit Bateau, actually.” He said the last bit sheepishly. “I figured it’d be an easy place for us to meet.”
“It worked for me,” I told him. “I actually live in Addison, so it was a short drive over.”
He leaned back into the seat, gaze on the radio. “So, what kind of music is on your playlist? If you listen to country, I think I’m going to tuck and roll.”
My jaw dropped in mock outrage, even though there wasn’t any country music on my playlist. “You’d jump out of a car instead of listening to country?”
“Probably. And before you ask,no, it’s not extreme. People jump out of cars all the time. Besides, why listen to country when you can listen to the Satellite 69’s?”
No way. “You listen to the Sat 69’s?”
He shifted in the passenger seat, angling so his body faced mine ever so slightly. And just like that, the conversation sparked to life as we shared a smile. “What’s your favorite album of theirs?”
“Darkest Night, hands down. That one’s slower, but I really like the theme. I like how it starts out as a sweet love story with ‘Isn’t it Bright’ and it ends with tragedy in ‘Midnight.’”
He grinned at that, gesturing to my cell. “You got that on your playlist?”
“Go ahead,” I said with a jerk of my chin. “I don’t have a passcode on my phone.”
“What kind of monster doesn’t have a passcode?”
I let out a laugh. “A monster with nothing to hide.”
Harry swiped up my cell, scrolling through my music list. My hands were sweating against the steering wheel, as if he was looking at some sort of personal diary. I guess in a way itwaslike a diary. I’d added all those songs because I enjoyed them, for one reason or another.
“Outside Inclusion? Nice. You don’t have their latest album on here.” When Harry looked over, he caught me making a face. “What, you don’t like their newest? I thought most people did.”
“Mostmainstreampeople,” I allowed, waving my hand. “They like the new stuff because it sounds like every other rock band. Their old stuff, though, has edge. Grit. I like that.”
I knew I sounded like a music snob, but the words flowed out of me, absolutely carefree. Honestly, I hadn’t thought this critically about my music tastes in my entire life.
Harry picked a song by the Sat 69’s, one of their lesser known ones. “Have you listened to the acoustic versions of their songs? They’re not on any albums, but extra versions they’ve posted on their website. They’re good.”
“Iloveacoustic versions of songs,” I told him, unable to keep from imagining his fingers strumming an acoustic guitar. It wasn’t often that Untapped Potentialplayed acoustic music, but on nights when they went back to their roots, I absolutely loved the sound of it. “It gives the song a lot of soul, don’t you think?”
