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I laid my fork on my plate before I gave into the urge to bury it in his chest. I moved up close to his ear. “Go fuck yourself.”
Ray chuckled and stood. “Your loss, Blondie. You’d better hit that unemployment office early Monday. I hear the line gets pretty long by lunchtime.”
“Who’s your friend, Violet?” Wolfgang asked as he stared at Ray. He’d returned just in time to keep me from launching myself at the asshole and scratching his eyes out. Lucky Ray.
“Good evening, Mr. Hessler.” Ray held out his hand. “I’m not sure you remember me. I work with Violet.”
Wolfgang was slow to grant a handshake, and quickly pulled his hand back, wiping it on his napkin afterward as he dropped into his seat. “Yes. Ralph, isn’t it?”
“Ray, actually.”
“Right. Are you here alone?”
“No. My nephew is sitting by the window. He’s a real estate agent, too. We’re celebrating a new job he’s about to land.”
“Good for you. He must be getting lonely.” Wolfgang’s eyes were on me now, his gaze searching. He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. His fingers were warm, rougher than I’d expected for a man who played with jewelry for a living. “Sorry about Mrs. Stine’s interruption.”
I smiled. “No problem.”
“Feel like dancing?”
“Love to.”
He kept hold of my hand as he helped me to my feet. “If you’ll excuse us, Ralph,” he said without looking in Ray’s direction.
“Don’t forget to pencil me into your dance card, Blondie.” Ray threw out his parting shot as I walked away.
Chin held high, I followed Wolfgang onto the dance floor, relaxing into him as his arms encircled me. The spicy smell of his skin almost erased Ray’s sleaziness from my mind. Almost.
“Have I told you how great you look tonight?” he said for my ears only.
I chuckled. “More than once.”
We moved in silence around the dance floor for a few beats.
“What did he say?” Wolfgang asked.
“Who?”
“Your co-worker.”
“Oh.” I hesitated, shoving aside several nasty replies and the ugly truth. “He just complimented me on my dress.”
“Liar.” Wolfgang drew back and stared at me. “I saw your face when he leaned in close.”
“Uhhh.” The truth was too embarrassing. “He reminded me of something I need to tell you.”
“Which is?”
The “right moment” I’d been waiting for all evening pulled into the station. I sighed. “I won’t be able to put your house on the market before the end of the month.”
“Why not?”
“Have you heard of the Deadwood Historical Committee?”
“In passing.”
“Well, before we can fix up the exterior of your place, we need to get a Certificate of Appropriateness from them.”
