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“If you’re good with your dinner companion smelling like a wet dog, I’m good with you feeding me.”
Leaning forward, I exaggeratedly sniff the air. “You smell fine to me.”
“You should be good as long as you don’t get too close.”
“Noted.”
Is she warning me off? Maybe she’s telling me she only wants to be friends. Or maybe she’s trying to make sure we take things slow.
This is why I don’t bother dating anyone. An occasional hookup is so much simpler. I don’t have to wade through all the complications and veiled signals. It’s just two people with one thing on their minds, and when that’s taken care of I can leave.
But Evie intrigues me on a deeper level, and that’s new for me.
We progress toward the waterfront, the smell of the sea filling the air. I inhale a cleansing breath and notice Evie doing the same.
“There’s nothing like the air on the coast. I can’t get enough of it,” I say.
“Hmm, I agree.”
Strolling along, we pass the Waterfront Park. “Brutus and I come here on our walks. There’s a fenced area that’s just south of the park for dogs to run freely. It’s one of his favorite places.”
“I bet it is.”
“Do you have any pets?” I ask.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’ve always thought it would be nice to have a dog, though. Maybe I’ll get one at some point.”
“They’re great company.” I point toward the pizza place just ahead. “Have you been here before?”
“No, I haven’t, but it already smells amazing.”
“You’re in for a treat.” Opening the door, I usher her inside before me.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We can sit wherever we want.”
“How about near the windows so we can see the fountain light up?” she suggests.
“Great idea.” I follow her to a table and pull out her chair.
She sits and murmurs, “Thanks.”
Taking the seat across from her at the small table, my eyes never leave her stunning face.
“What do you recommend?” she asks.
“They have subs and other things, but the pizza is all I ever get. It’s New York style and they get the crust just right.” I kiss my fingertips.
“Sounds good to me.”
The waitress takes our order and hurries away.
“I realized I don’t know your last name, and now I’m wondering if it’s safe to be here with you,” I tease.
She lets out a quick laugh. “It’s Bruschi.”
“Like Teddy?” I ask, and she looks confused. “Teddy Bruschi, the defensive lineman that played for the New England Patriots.”
