Cherish Her

by Johnston, Andrea

  Groaning, I rub my hand down my face. He’s been relentless since I let it slip how great Dakota is. I’ve explained more than once that we’re strictly friends, but he’s determined to force the issue. Not that I would complain if she wanted to be more. She’s consumed my thoughts dozens of times a day since I left Lexington last week. We haven’t spoken, only exchanging a few text messages. She did say she wanted to talk to me about something when I get to town.

  “She’s not my lady. We’re friends. I’m sure I’ll see her around. We do have mutual friends after all.”

  Grunting, he shakes his head and comments, “You’ll never dance with her under the moonlight if you don’t make a move.”

  “Who said anything about dancing under the moonlight? What’s in that coffee cup? Moonshine?”

  “Blame my daughter-in-law. She watches a lot of those romantic movies on television. Those people are always dancing in random places. And baking. A lot of baking, but they never eat the food. Seems like a waste to me.”

  Like I do when he gets on one of his rants, I sit back in my seat and settle in while he debates with himself. I never would’ve guessed on the first day I met Gene that we’d be here months later. He’s become someone I turn to for advice. Fatherly advice. He hasn’t judged when I’ve opened up about my feelings—the struggles following a career in the military and my attempts to adjust to a life with no family and no real structure.

  I think in many ways, having me to guide and parent has helped his own relationship with his son. He can smother me with all his words of wisdom and just be with his own family. I’ll never admit it, but, in many ways, he’s saved me. I haven’t struggled with depression like many others, but I’ve hit a few bumps in the road and have found myself confiding in Gene more than I ever did a therapist or my friends.

  When we finally end our call, I do one last walk-through of the house and make sure everything is clean and set for Mercy and Shane. Just as I’m leaving, I decide to send Dakota a quick text and confirm everything is set with the rental.

  It’s a bogus text but at least it’s better than asking what the weather is or something equally dumb like yesterday. Pulling up her contact information, I tap the button for the message but of course I hit the wrong button and soon, the loud video chat ringing begins. Crap. Hanging up the call quickly, I wait a second to make sure it truly ended the call. Sighing in relief, I turn to exit the house through the back door when the phone begins to ring.

  Dakota. Video chat. Shit.

  “Sorry about that. I, uh . . . hit your information by mistake.”

  Smiling, she crinkles her nose and lifts her own coffee cup to her lips. Unlike my stainless steel travel mug, hers reads “Coffee helps me like you.” I’ve seen Dakota causal, professional, and now early in the morning. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun and her face is void of makeup. She’s bundled in a hoodie and I have to say, this is by far my favorite version of her.

  “You don’t have to lie; I know you wanted to say good morning.”

  “I’ll never give up an opportunity to wish you good morning, but I really didn’t mean to hit the video button.”

  “But you did mean to call me, just not by video?”

  Shit.

  “No!” I cringe at the loudness. “My intention was to send a text. I hit the video by mistake.”

  “I’m just teasing you, Grant. Are you always this tense at . . . seven thirty in the morning?”

  Snorting a laugh, I shake my head, and make my way out the back door. “I’m not tense. I don’t want you thinking I was trying to be rude.”

  “Your secret is safe with me. Actually, I’m glad you called. Accidental or otherwise. Do you still plan on stopping by the office tomorrow? I drove by the rental, and I think you may be able to move in this weekend. I’m going to reach out to the owners again.”

  “That would be great. They’ll never say it, but I think I’m overstaying my welcome at the Cains. Or they’re going to start charging me rent.”

  I’m settling behind the wheel, when she says, “I can guarantee that is not the case. Scarlett loves having you there.”

  Interesting. “Dakota, have you been talking about me with Scarlett?”

  She begins to choke, her eyes wide and cheeks a beautiful pink. I’m going to take that as a yes. I hoped the flirting, or attempts to flirt, were reciprocated, but knowing she’s talking about me with others seems like a good sign.

  “Have you thought more about that coffee or dinner?”

  “I . . . actually. Oh boy. It’s really early for this conversation.”

  “Would you prefer I call you later today for you to answer?” I don’t bother hiding how happy this turn of events makes me.

  “No, might as well rip off the bandage now. I’ve thought about it and think dinner may be nice. As friends, of course.”

  I suck back the smirk itching to be released and instead grace her with a simple smile and a head nod. Dakota taking this step with me is huge. Not only for our new friendship but for her. I’ve watched her enough and listened to her friends talk to know she’s had a lot of struggles and loss in her life. Putting herself out there must be difficult and scary.

  “How about tomorrow? We can celebrate the sale and I’ll sign whatever you need me to on the rental.”

  She looks off in the distance obviously thinking this through but when she turns to face me, a grin on her face, she makes my day.

  “Dinner tomorrow.”

  “It’s a—”

  “Mulligans?” she asks, cutting me off. “I can meet you there at seven o’clock.”

  “Seven. I’ll see you then. Have a good day, Dakota.”

  “You too, Grant.”

  With a little wave, she taps the phone and the screen goes blank. I guess sometimes accidental video chats work out for the best.

  Chapter 19

  Grant

  “Where are you going?” Scarlett asks me from the edge of the bed. She’s been sitting there, watching me unpack my bag, peppering me with questions. You’d think she had set up this friendly dinner with Dakota tonight with how nosy she’s being.

  “Red, why are you so interested? Do you ask Connor these questions when he’s going out with someone?”

  Huffing, she throws a pair of socks at me. Well, attempting to throw them at me. They kind of go rogue and end up hitting the door instead.

  “I don’t ask Connor about his dates because there are things I can’t unhear.”

  She’s got me there. That kid is sowing the oats he never did when he was younger. Or, he’s enjoying being single in a new town. However you look at it, he’s not looking for more than a hookup. No strings. No commitment.

  “What are you wearing?”

  “Scarlett, really? Come on. What’s next? Shall we paint each other’s nails?”

  Groaning and rolling her head dramatically, she rises from the bed and stomps my way. Bracing a hand on each of my biceps, she attempts to shake me. I say attempt because there’s no movement to her dismay.

  “Grant Ellison. I love you. You are a wonderful man. Kind, sensitive, giving, and a heart of gold. Dakota is my friend. She has been through a lot, and this dinner with you is a huge step for her. Please be gentle with her. Be her friend and let her take the lead.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt her, Red. You know me better than that.”

  “That thought never crossed my mind. It’s just that she’s worked hard the last few years and she deserves happiness. Without breaking her confidence, I will just say she may not realize her worth. Be patient.”

  Stepping away from me, she begins for the doorway and pauses, shooting me a look over her shoulder. “Wear the charcoal gray shirt.”

  Leaving me alone, I can hear her giggles as she makes her way downstairs to join her family. Her words linger and my mind is running a mile a minute. While her words were simple, the meaning behind them were impactful.

  In my prior visits to Lexington, I’ve only eaten
at two places. Rosa’s Mexican Restaurant and Country Road. While both are great on their own, I’m looking forward to trying something different. Mulligan’s sounded like a great name for an Irish pub, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover it’s actually a steakhouse.

  Before I hop in the shower, I should probably check in with Dakota. Make sure she isn’t backing out or freaking out.

  Me: Are we still on for dinner tonight?

  Her response is quick. That’s a good sign.

  Dakota: Yes?

  Me: Are you not sure?

  Dakota: I’m sure. Are YOU sure?

  Me: Very sure.

  Dakota: This is awkward. I’m sorry.

  Me: SURE it’s a little awkward . . .

  I watch as the three dots bounce on the screen then stop. And start again. It’s a few more flashes before her message appears.

  Dakota: I tried to come up with something witty. Surely there’s a response fitting. *laughing emoji*

  Me: She’s got jokes. Are you sure I can’t pick you up?

  Dakota: Maybe next time?

  I like the idea of her thinking of a next time before we’ve gone out once.

  Me: Next time. See you at 7.

  When there’s no response, I toss my phone on the bed and finish the task at hand before I go about getting ready. Part of me wants to ignore Scarlett’s recommendation on what to wear but deep down I know she wants me to look my best, to make this night special for Dakota. I can’t fault her for that.

  Mulligan’s Steakhouse is busy for a weeknight. Of course, it is the only steakhouse for fifty miles, so it isn’t too surprising. I scan the lot for Dakota’s small SUV. When I spot it, I turn my car in the same direction and park a few spots away.

  Making my way across the parking lot toward the entrance, I take in the building before me. Decades old, the years and the elements have only added to the authenticity of what people would assume about a Texas steakhouse. A sign above the large wooden door reads ‘Watch your Step.” Heeding its warning, I enter cautiously. The lights are dim, not like the bright spaces you’ll find at a chain restaurant. Deep red leather chairs with small tables beside them are in the waiting area. Just past the entry is the hostess stand.

  A young woman with long dark hair and a beaming smile greets me. “Good evening.”

  “Hello. I’m meeting a friend.” Peering over her shoulder, I search the portion of the dining room in my eyesight but instead of spotting Dakota, my eyes land on a large open fire. “Do you cook your steaks over a fire?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir. Mulligan’s is known for our slow cooked steaks over a tamarack fire. What is the name on your reservation?”

  “Dakota Jennings.”

  She runs her finger down the book in front of her. When she stops on a name, she looks up with a small smile. “Ms. Jennings is currently waiting in the lounge. Would you like me to show you the way?”

  “That way?” I point to the right and she nods in affirmation. “I’ll find it.”

  Stepping around the stand, I take in the rest of the surroundings. Servers wearing cowboy hats and plaid shirts move through the space like an organized dance. My mouth practically waters as a tray passes by. Damn that looks good.

  Stepping into the bar area, I locate Dakota quickly. Sitting at a small booth in the corner, she’s looking down at the table. Allowing myself a moment to appreciate her without being caught, I walk slowly toward her. When I’m close, I clear my throat to get her attention. Her eyes lift and the smile she greets me with hits me deep in my gut. Gone is the fresh-faced woman from this morning and in her place, pure glamour.

  Her hair is loose with waves brushing her shoulders, the side pinned up exposing part of her neck that my fingers itch to touch. Once again, I ignore the thoughts her red lips give me. It’s her eyes that have most of my attention. Tonight I don’t see the hesitation or cloud of sadness that lurked in her baby blues when we first met. Instead, there’s light and happiness. She’s breathtaking.

  “You made it,” she sighs as she rises from the booth. “The hostess said our table would be ready when you arrived. I was just responding to some emails while I waited. If you want to have a drink, we can sit. I’m sure that would be fine.”

  “Dakota,” I say while reaching for her hand. “Relax. Truth be told, I’m starving.”

  Nodding, she reaches for her purse. While her back is turned, I pull a five-dollar bill from my wallet and toss it on the table.

  “Thank you. I didn’t have any cash on me, and he refused to charge me for club soda.”

  “It’s no problem. Shall we?”

  Stepping out of the way, I motion for her to go ahead. Following her through the bar area and back to the front of the restaurant, I’m able to appreciate the way the cobalt blue dress hugs her curves. Nope. I need to put all of that away. We’re friends, and if I want to broach the subject of more, I need to keep that in mind.

  The hostess motions for us to follow her and as we do, I place my hand on Dakota’s lower back. It’s an instinctive gesture but the moment my hand touches her, I worry it’s too much. Thankfully she only slows for a minute but doesn’t say anything.

  When we reach the table, I pull her chair out like the gentleman my mom raised me to be. When she sits, I lean down and whisper, “You’re beautiful.” I don’t add “tonight” because truthfully, she’s always beautiful.

  Her response is quiet, almost a whisper but the sweet smile that accompanies it tells me it’s appreciated. Once the hostess has offered a rundown of the specials, she retreats, leaving us alone. We fall into comfortable small talk. Once I saw that tamarack fire, I knew a rib eye was the only answer, so ordering is quick and simple.

  By the time our salads arrive we’ve discussed everything from the change in weather to my drive. She confirmed the rental will be ready earlier than planned, and I’m relieved at the news. But, it’s in the minutes following the salad and before our meals arrive that she takes me by surprise.

  Chapter 20

  Dakota

  My phone has been buzzing next to my plate since we sat down. More specifically, since Grant leaned down and whispered in my ear. When his minty breath tickled my ear, it sent a ripple of goosebumps across my skin and my heart skipped a beat. I saw him dressed up on New Year’s Eve and while the look is the same, tonight is different. Tonight, I noticed his forearm flex when he mindlessly rubbed his hand over his trimmed beard. It isn’t as if the muscle just appeared, but I don’t recall finding it super sexy before now.

  I’m not the only one who has noticed how handsome he is. The hostess had a distinctive blush whenever her gaze fell on Grant. I wanted to put my hand on her shoulder and tell her I get it. Completely.

  Another buzz from beside my flatware as I stab at the lettuce of my Caesar salad catches both of our attention. Taking a peek, the screen reads “Unknown Caller.” I know it’s likely the spammer who keeps calling me at all hours and never leaving a message. After declining the call, I take the opportunity to check the new text messages.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. It’s my sister. I didn’t tell her we were meeting and she’s giving me grief.”

  With a smirk he chuckles when it buzzes.

  “Oh for goodness sake.” Exasperated, I pick up the phone and type a quick text.

  Me: I am with a friend in a restaurant. STOP TEXTING ME!

  Minnie: *wow emoji*

  Rolling my eyes, I toss the phone back down on the table. With a deep breath, I look at my plate and exhale, regulating my heart rate. I don’t need to read her texts to know Minnie is all over the place with her messages. Astounded and proud I’ve taken this step to be out with Grant, she’s likely equally hurt I didn’t confide in her and worried I’m going to freak out. The latter is why I didn’t go to her before tonight. I planned to call her on my way home, I just needed to get through tonight without worrying about too many opinions.

  Pushing my plate out of the way, salad hardly touched
, I look at Grant. Handsome, kind, and enticing, he is the first man to catch my attention and one of the only people I’ve wanted to share my story with for no other reason than I want him to know. I suppose if there are to be more dinners and nights together, that’s a good thing.

  “That’s a serious look. Everything okay?”

  “I’m having a great time.”

  Smiling, he nods his head but doesn’t say anything. I appreciate the gesture. Maybe he recognizes how difficult this is for me. Or, perhaps he simply believes what I’m saying for what it is. The truth. I am having a great time. Being with Grant is easy and comfortable, like we’ve been in each other’s lives for years not weeks.

  “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, becoming friends. Tonight, being out with you is a big deal for me. I know it’s just dinner, but this isn’t something I do often.”

  “Dakota,” he whisper shouts before looking around, as if we’re in on a secret. “Do you not eat? Are you some sort of pod person?”

  “Smartass. I’m being serious. By now, you’ve heard about my past. What lead me to move to Lexington.”

  Grant pushes his plate aside, resting the forearms I was admiring earlier on the table. He leans forward, showing me he’s interested in what I have to say but also making this conversation intimate, just for the two of us.

  “About eight weeks after Cali was born, my husband and I were in a car accident. Jeff had planned a lovely night for me, the first time I’d worn something other than my new mom uniform of leggings and baggy T-shirts. I was happy. We were happy. I still don’t remember everything that happened, but from what I’ve been told and read, there was a deer, Jeff swerved, and lost control of the car. We flipped multiple times, landing against a tree.”

  I can hear myself, my tone flat void of any emotion. It’s a story I know well, part of my internal monologue. I’ve worked through it in therapy, group sessions and individually. People may think I’m callous and uncaring because the emotion that used to consume me and rip my heart into pieces, is gone. I feel it all, but instead of wearing it on my sleeve, I’ve put it away, set it into a box in the recesses of my mind. It was something I had to do to move forward.