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“I understand.” His gut twisted, but he pushed back from the table and stood up. “Thanks for listening.” He turned toward the front entrance of the nearly-deserted restaurant. Well, that had been an exercise in humility.
“I accept your apology.”
Jackson stumbled to an ungraceful halt. “You what?”
Carly’s lips edged upward in the faintest hint of a smile. “I have a mother too, you know. I wish you’d just told me all of this from the beginning, but I understand what you did, and I believe you’re being honest now. So, I accept your apology.”
Holy. Shit.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
Carly laughed, and the sound burned through him like brushfire on dry kindling. “Say good night. We’re closed, and my feet are killing me. Plus, Gavin will throw you out if I don’t, and he’s not as nice about it as I am.” She gestured to a guy in an expensive-looking suit tallying receipts at the bar. As far as Jackson could tell, he was the only other person left in the whole place.
“Oh. Oh, right. Are you on your way out? I could walk you to your car,” he offered, still stunned.
“Okay.”
By the time Carly retrieved her bag from the kitchen and said good night to the restaurant manager, Jackson had regained enough of his faculties to at least stop babbling. The cool night air kicked into a breeze around them, ruffling Carly’s scarf.
“So, you really liked that calamari, huh? Or was that just to humor me?” She slid a cautious glance at him, one that told him he wasn’t entirely off the hook yet.
“I don’t kid about food. The first bite was a little rough, but as soon as I tasted it, I knew you were right.” They headed toward her Honda, which was only a few spots away from his truck in the now-deserted lot. “Any chance you’ll tell me what’s in that dipping sauce? It might’ve been the best part.”
Carly laughed. “It’s a di Matisse secret. I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”
“Ouch. Well, I’ll have to settle for just eating it, then.” Jackson’s stomach rumbled in approval, apparently getting reacquainted with the notion of actually wanting food. “Are you the only person who knows how to make it?”
“You are persistent when it comes to food, aren’t you?” Carly asked tartly, but her smile was obvious even in the shadowy light cast off from the restaurant behind them.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I’m asking. I was just curious if you ever get a night off. You know, let someone else run the show so you can get a break. Does that ever happen?”
She paused. “Mondays. I usually have Mondays off.”
“And what do you normally do on Mondays?”
“I cook.”
Jackson’s laugh came from deep in his chest. Somehow, her answer wasn’t shocking. In fact, everything about her was so uncomplicated and real that the next thing out of his mouth was surprisingly a no-brainer.
“What do you say to shaking things up this week and eating instead of cooking?” While tonight’s mission had yielded check marks in both the appetite and sexy flirting columns, it would probably be pushing the limits of his luck to go for the trifecta and kiss her. Asking her out was the best compromise he could come up with on short notice, even though seeing her again was yet another risk. But hell, his stomach was back on board, and she seemed pretty no-nonsense when it came down to it.
When he’d told Shane he liked her, he’d meant it. All he had to do was keep it under control, and they’d be fine.
“Are you asking me out?” Crickets sang in an endless hum in the background, and Carly’s keys jingled softly in her palm. Far in the distance, heat lightning flashed like a silvery blanket being snapped across the sky, but none of that quite made it into his brain as clearly as the woman in front of him. A crooked smile took over his face, and his words tasted like dessert as he spoke.
“From here on in, there aren’t going to be any pretenses between us. I’m asking you out, Carly di Matisse. What do you say?”
13
“Tell me you said yes!” Sloane cried, staring at Carly over the rim of her coffee mug. Several birds took flight from a nearby branch in the backyard, zipping through the morning sunlight at the high pitch of Sloane’s voice.
“You’re disturbing the wildlife.” Carly jutted her chin toward the tree line, trying to mask her smile. She’d probably go to hell for torturing her best friend like this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.
“Carly.”
The word was a warning, and Carly didn’t wait for the flash of narrowed blue eyes that would surely accompany it. “Okay, I give up. I said yes.” She sent her grin into her coffee cup rather than broadcasting it across the yard.
“Gotta say, the humble apology is a pleasant surprise. Not a lot of men go for that,” Sloane said, one brow arched.
