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“You wound me, Sheriff. I come bearing gifts, and you’re questioning my thoughtfulness.”
Her brows furrowed as she eyed the pastry. “You swear there’s nothing in there but cream?”
“Pinky swear.” He held out his pinky finger.
“What are you? A twelve-year-old girl?”
“Sweetheart, you know for a fact how far from the truth that is.” He wiggled his finger.
She rolled her eyes as she wrapped her little finger around his. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Au contraire. I’m a handsome devil, is what I am.” He winked, grinning when he caught her trying to hide her smile. Time to get serious for a minute, though. “Mason give you any trouble when he turned in his gun and badge?”
“Other than telling me he’d make me sorry? No.”
“That’s a threat, Skye. You need to watch your back.” He’d sure as hell be watching it, even if she said—and she would—that she was perfectly capable of protecting herself.
She picked up her phone and wiggled it. “Got it recorded.”
“Good thinking. I wish I didn’t think the day would come when you’d need it, but I can’t.” He pushed off her desk. “We still need to have a committee meeting. The rest of my day is full, so dinner tonight.” When she opened her mouth, to no doubt object to spending the evening with him, he said, “It’s a business dinner, nothing more.” Unless he could talk her into more.
“Fine. Where should I meet you?”
Nice try, sweetheart. “We have reservations at seven, so I’ll pick you up at six thirty.” He left before she could argue. He’d come close to telling her to wear something besides her damn uniform but had managed to keep his mouth shut. That they had reservations somewhere was hopefully enough of a hint that they weren’t eating at the Kitchen.
What would she wear? He couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Enough was enough. She’d changed clothes three times already. Skye glared at her reflection in the mirror. How long had it been since she’d worn a dress? The last time had been a dinner out with Danny, so over a year ago. Wearing this dress, in fact.
She reached behind her to unzip the back, then paused. She liked this dress, but it needed new memories. The sleeveless dusty rose dress didn’t show any cleavage and the hem of the flared skirt stopped just above her knees. The high-neckline bodice was fitted, and a thin silver belt drew the eye to her waist. It was a classic, yet sexy, and she was going to wear it.
She was hopeless when it came to makeup, so mascara, a hint of blush, and some lip gloss and she was done. The first thing she’d done after getting out of the shower was put on the strappy heel sandals to try and get used to walking in them. She hated heels, hadn’t worn any since leaving Florida, but she’d look pretty silly wearing flip-flops or her work shoes. Hopefully, she wouldn’t fall on her face.
All right. She was ready, and what was she supposed to do with herself until Tristan would get here? And why was she nervous? This was just a business dinner, not a date. Maybe she should change. Wear something more businesslike.
Her doorbell chimed. Okay, it was too late to change. Problem solved. And she was kind of glad. She wanted to see appreciation in Tristan’s eyes. Wearing the sandal heels for an hour to get used to them had been a great idea, as she didn’t trip over her feet when she opened the door and was treated with the vision of Tristan in a suit.
“Hi,” she gushed. No. Nope. Nada. She did not gush over men. Well, she never had before, but if any man was gush-worthy, it was the one standing in front of her. His gaze roamed over her, and his eyes deepened to the color of rich, dark chocolate.
“Hey, beautiful.” He gave her a shy smile. “Is it okay to say that?”
“What girl doesn’t like hearing a man say that to her?” He was flirting with her, and she liked it.
“Good to know.” He stepped to her and brushed his lips over hers, nothing more than a soft touch, but her heart hammered in her chest. “Is that okay?”
“For a business dinner, probably not.” But he was welcomed to do it again.
“We might discuss a little business, but this is not a business dinner, Skye.”
“No? What is it then?”
“A date.”
“That’s not—”
He touched his finger to her lips. “Don’t overthink it, Sheriff.”
