by Tawna Fenske
He stared at her. “I’m sorry?”
It wasn’t an apology as much as genuine confusion. What the fuck was she talking about?
“When you unloaded the dishwasher,” Abby said with exaggerated patience. “It’s supposed to go knives, forks, spoons. The slots are shaped like the utensils—long and skinny, then rectangular at the top, then the oval. Everyone knows that’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Tony nodded, figuring it was best not to argue. “What an asshole.”
Abby narrowed her eyes. “Don’t swear in front of Lily.”
Shit. “Sorry.” He glanced at Kayla, who didn’t look ready to surrender the baby anytime soon. “Um, maybe we should go?”
Lifting her face from the crown of the baby’s head, she sighed. “I suppose so.” Carefully, she tucked the baby back in the stroller. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions for great restaurants nearby?”
Abby’s eyes narrowed as she flicked a glance at Tony. “Not for a date with him, is it?”
“Actually, no.” She smiled a bit self-consciously. “By myself. It’s the experiment I’m trying: learning to be comfortable by myself and enjoy my own company.”
Abby snorted. “That’s the best plan I’ve heard all week. Take it from me, hon—men will just disappoint you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Soliloquy’s good,” Abby offered. “Great food, cool atmosphere.”
“Thanks.” Kayla’s smile looked surer this time. “That was at the top of my list, so I’ll give them a call.”
Abby stood to leave, and Tony did the same, because he was a goddamn gentleman and that’s what gentlemen did. Abby frowned. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing.” He sat back down as Kayla put a hand over her mouth to cover a cough that was probably a laugh. “Drive safely,” he said. “Have a good life.”
She ignored him but flashed one last high-voltage smile at Kayla. “Great meeting you.”
And then she was gone. Tony watched her walk away, not sure whether to laugh or yell or lie down on the floor and beat his head against the tiles.
Kayla waited until Abby swished out the door to turn to him. “I know you want to count that as a point in your favor,” she said slowly. “But I don’t think it should count when an insane person calls you an asshole.”
He nodded, still too dumbfounded to speak. “Huh.”
“I probably don’t get the point either, since that wasn’t exactly commitment-phobia.” She smiled and pulled him against her in a sweet side hug. “I don’t know what that was, but you did great. Really.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t feel so great, but at least it was over. “Who’s next? I’ve honestly forgotten at this point.”
“Take a break, big guy.” Kayla gave him a squeeze. “I think you’ve earned it.”
He leaned into her with a grateful sigh, weary and relieved, with a weird stew of loss simmering in his belly. What the hell was that about?
“You feel like you learned anything useful from that one?” she asked.
“That I’m an asshole.” He shrugged. “Which I already kinda knew.”
“You’re not an asshole. If anything, Abby’s the asshole for holding on to anger instead of releasing it into the universe and being free.”
He grinned, feeling better already. “That sounds like a line from the book.”
“Maybe it is.” She cocked her head. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
She slugged him in the arm. “What if we’re both right? Maybe you’re a bad boyfriend with commitment issues, but there’s a good reason for it?”
“Like what?” He forced himself to hold eye contact, to not let himself go down the dark trails where his brain sometimes threatened to take him.
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “It just feels like maybe there’s something we’re missing. Something in your past—”
“We should get going.” He stood up and dropped a ten on the table, even though they’d never gotten past the complimentary water. “It’s going to take you a while to get ready for your solo date, right?”
She shrugged. “I guess. You said you’re meeting some smokejumpers for dinner?”
“We’ll probably just grab a beer,” he said. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”
Funny how it vanished the instant Kayla started voicing suspicions about his history. It would be so much simpler if she just stayed convinced he was an asshole. Not that she’d ever seemed to buy it, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here. Five bucks says Abby calls before we get back to the hotel because she thought of five more things to be pissed at you for.”
He laughed, even as the ground shifted weirdly beneath his feet. “No bet,” he said and followed her out the door.
Chapter Ten
Kayla studied the menu, conscious of the soft, romantic jazz fluttering from the piano in the corner. She hadn’t expected Soliloquy to be this nice, with its linen tablecloths and glowing candles on the table.
But Dr. Patience O’Toole had told her she deserved to give herself a romantic night on the town, so here she was. Just like the good doc suggested, Kayla wore a little black dress and strappy heels and the confidence of a woman comfortable dining alone.
Mostly. She set the menu down and smiled at the approaching waitress. “Hi there.”
“Good evening.” The waitress folded her hands behind her back. “Would you like to hear about our specials, or are you waiting for someone?”
“Nope, it’s just me.” She said the words brightly, infusing them with a please-don’t-feel-sorry-for-me vibe she hoped came through.
The waitress smiled. “Good for you. That’s a lovely necklace, by the way.”
“Oh, thank you.” Kayla fingered the emerald pendant at her throat and reminded herself to tip well. “It’s my first solo date night.”
“What an awesome idea.” Her smile widened, and Kayla felt the tension easing from her shoulders. “I’m Sidney, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
“Kayla.”
Sidney rattled off the specials, including a steak with béarnaise sauce and a steelhead dish that sounded heavenly. Kayla listened, gaze snagging on a platter being carried past on another server’s tray.
“That’s the lobster risotto,” Sidney offered. “It’s to die for.”
“I think I’ll go with the cedar-planked salmon.” Kayla handed the menu back as Sidney nodded approvingly. “Can you recommend a wine pairing?”
“The dry grenache rosé from Abacela is a great choice,” she said. “Juicy with notes of strawberry and white pepper. I can bring you a taste if you like.”
“I’ll trust your judgment.” She smiled. “Go ahead and bring a full glass.”
“Excellent pick. Any starters for you?”
“The calamari sounds great,” she said. “Extra lemon slices, please?”
“Coming right out.”
Sidney disappeared, and Kayla had to admit she wasn’t all that hungry. She just needed something to do with her hands—a way to look strong and confident, with a sense of purpose. Even if the purpose was stuffing her face with calamari.
“Hi there.” A voice yanked her attention to the left, where a handsome guy holding a martini stood smiling at her. He gestured to the empty chair at her table. “I noticed you from across the room. Do you have someone joining you?”
She opened her mouth to lie. To tell him her big, burly boyfriend would be along any minute.
But why should she have to fib just to stroke some guy’s ego or get him to leave her alone?
“I don’t, actually, but I’d really like to—”
“Great!” The guy set his drink on the table and pulled out the chair,
dropping into it before she could finish her objection. “I’m Robert, and can I just say that’s a beautiful necklace?”
Again, her hand went to the pendant. This time, she felt a lot ickier about it. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on the spot where the jewelry dipped low into her cleavage. She started to wriggle the dress up, to cover herself more fully.
But Dr. O’Toole’s words echoed in her head.
Be confident. Be secure. Be aware that some people will find it curious to see you sitting alone, but you owe no one an explanation or the precious gift of your time.
Kayla cleared her throat. “Thank you. That’s very sweet. If you don’t mind, though, I’d rather dine alone.”
The guy’s brow furrowed. “I don’t mind keeping you company. Here, let me buy you a drink.”
Kayla gritted her teeth, determined to stand strong. “I don’t want a drink, thank you.”
Understanding flashed in his eyes. “Ah, gotcha. My sister’s in recovery, too. Six years sober, and we’re all really proud of her.”
Irritation bubbled inside her. Being nice wasn’t working. Did she need to kick the guy in the knee?
“Look, Rodney—”
“Robert.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his drink. “But my friends call me Rob.”
“Look, Robert.” She added a little grit to her voice, determined to stand up for herself. “I’d like you to leave. I’m sure you’re a very nice guy, but I’ve been looking forward to dining alone, so I’m asking you to go back to your table.”
He frowned. “You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”
Her mouth fell open, and she was too stunned to say anything as she watched him retreat across the restaurant to a group of guys clustered at the bar. She saw him gesturing toward her, shaking his head in obvious disgust.
Good. Maybe his friends would get the message that she wasn’t interested. She should have told him she had some communicable disease, just to up her odds of being left alone.
“Here you go.” Sidney swooped back in with a plate piled high with breaded calamari. “Extra lemon, plus I brought you some of our garlic dipping sauce.”
“Garlic. Perfect.” Maybe if she guzzled it she could keep the Roberts of the world away.
Sidney smiled and set down a glass of blush-colored wine. “Your salad will be out in a minute. Oh, and that gentleman over there said he’d like to buy your drink.”
Kayla craned her neck to where Sidney pointed toward the bar. A guy in a gray suit waved at her, then lifted his own glass in a silent toast. She sighed.
“I’m really not interested,” she murmured to Sidney. “I’m buying my own wine.”
“That’s what I told him.” She gave Kayla a sympathetic look. “Want me to go say you’re married or something?”
“No, I’ll handle it.” She turned to the calamari, crossing her fingers the guy in the gray suit would take the hint. She concentrated on squeezing lemon over the whole platter, pleased she didn’t have to ask anyone else’s permission. Usually, when she went on dates, they’d end up splitting an app. It felt nice to order whatever she wanted—to douse the whole damn thing in lemon if she felt like it.
Why didn’t she do this more often?
“Excuse me. I wanted to come say hello.”
She looked up to see the guy in the gray suit had migrated to the edge of her table. She gritted her teeth, torn between the urge to be polite and her desire to tell him to take a hike.
“Hello,” she said as pleasantly as she could manage. “Thank you for offering to buy my wine, but I’m really just interested in treating myself tonight.”
“A feminist.” The guy grinned and sat down in the empty chair, not bothering to ask. “That’s fantastic. I love strong, independent women.”
Dude, no one’s asking for your approval.
Kayla bit back those words, as well as some other more colorful ones. “Look, I’m interested in being by myself right now,” she said. “Thank you, but no thank you.”
He frowned. “Was it something I said? Because I actually don’t like feminists that much.”
“I have gonorrhea!” She shouted it a lot louder than she meant to, causing a few heads to swivel around the restaurant.
The guy in the gray suit got up, practically knocking over his chair. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered, making a beeline back toward the bar.
Well. She’d been called a bitch twice before she’d had two bites of her appetizer. Progress?
With another sigh, she took a sip of her wine. Ah, that was wonderful. Bright and dry, with hints of strawberry and maybe honey. She could see how it would go great with the salmon. She should probably save it until her entrée arrived, to fully appreciate the pairing.
A thought flickered through her brain as she set the wine down. Had douchey gray-suit guy slipped anything in her drink? She didn’t think so, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off him, but still. She’d heard of these things happening.
“Goddamn it.” She uttered the curse aloud, hopefully scaring off any suitors in the immediate area. Nudging the wineglass aside, she chowed down on the calamari. It had the perfect cornmeal coating with just a little bit of spice. The squeeze of lemon had been just right, and she devoured the whole platter, sipping her water instead of the wine.
Sidney returned with her salad and another glass of rosé.
Kayla frowned. “Please tell me that’s not from some other random guy.”
“Nope.” The waitress offered a sympathetic smile and set the glass down. “It’s from me. Don’t worry; I’m not hitting on you. I saw you not touching your other one, and I can guess why.” Sidney glanced toward gray-suit guy and lowered her voice. “I’m sure he’s harmless, and I watched him the whole time he was over here to make sure he didn’t get near your drink. But just to be safe—”
“Thank you.” Kayla blinked back unexpected tears, her system flooding with gratitude for this token of girl-powered kindness. “You’re so getting a great tip.”
Sidney laughed and picked up the first glass of wine. “Pay it forward, sister. Women look out for each other.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” She picked up her new glass of wine and lifted it in a toast to Sidney. Who needed a man? Not her; no way.
Okay, having a man was nice sometimes. Her brain flashed back to Tony going down on her. God, the things he’d done with his mouth. And his fingers and—
No. Stop thinking about that. This is your time.
She took a sip of wine and started on her salad, determined not to spend one more minute of this meal thinking about any man. Not even Tony. Not even if he’d made her come her brains out like—
“That’s a great smile.” A guy in a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up paused at her table and flashed her a broad grin. “What’s such a pretty girl doing all alo—”
“Step away from the table.” Kayla picked up the knife beside her plate and gripped it tight in her fist. Smiling through gritted teeth, she tipped the blade in his direction. “Please.”
The guy’s eyes widened. He backed away slowly, keeping one eye on the knife. “Right. Uh, have a nice night.”
Kayla set the knife down and went back to eating her salad. Maybe word got around the restaurant, because no one bothered her again as she dove into her salmon. She ate with relish, pleased with herself for fending off the assholes. Maybe some of them weren’t assholes, but for God’s sake, couldn’t a woman eat in peace?
Using her last bite of salmon to swab up a swirl of truffled cauliflower puree, she popped it in her mouth and chewed. So, this was what it felt like to be on a date with herself. She pushed her plate back and smiled. She’d done it. Treated herself to date night and stood up for herself in the process.
It felt good.
Almost as good as what Tony had done with his finge
rs when—
“For God’s sake.” Disgusted with herself, she peeled the napkin off her lap and set it on the table. Scanning the restaurant for Sidney to bring the check, her eyes settled on a familiar figure parked at the bar.
Broad-shouldered and dark-haired, he had his back to her. But Kayla would know those forearms anywhere. Heat pooled in her belly as she stood up and strode over to the bar. Slipping her hands over his eyes, she leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear.
“Waiting for someone?”
The second she said it, she second-guessed herself. Shit, what if he was here for a date?
“Kayla.” He turned around, grinning. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
She smiled, sidling onto the barstool beside Tony and folding her hands on the bar. “You mean you didn’t come here looking for me?”
“Maybe.” He smiled and picked up his drink, which looked a lot like club soda. “Or maybe I came to get hammered.”
Laughing, she grabbed the drink out of his hand and took a sip. Yep. Club soda. She handed it back and swept a hand toward her table. “I was about to get the check, but I’ll stick around if you want to share dessert.”
“You sure?” His brow furrowed. “I did come here to make sure you weren’t being hounded by creeps, but I know you wanted to do this alone.”
“And I did.” She smiled and tucked her hair behind one ear. “But I don’t want to do the crème brûlée alone, so please join me.”
“You know the way to a guy’s heart.” He slid off his stool and took her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like that simple gesture didn’t send sharp sparks of delight shooting up her arms and into the tinderbox of her heart.
…
“Do you want coffee or tea or anything to go with that?”
The waitress’s question gave Tony a few seconds to watch Kayla in action. He loved how she asked smart questions about the difference between two of the after-dinner liqueurs on the menu—stuff he couldn’t even begin to pronounce. He loved how friendly and open she was, at least when creepy strangers weren’t hitting on her.
