Page 40 of Shots on Net

“It’s about a block away,” he tells me, dropping his hand as soon as he’s guided me to the sidewalk. I wait to see if he’ll try to hold my hand, but his arms hang loose by his side as we walk. “The Pearl. Have you ever been?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it. It’s a limited menu, right? They only serve the catch of the day?”

“Exactly. I’ve only been here once, with Vas, but it was really good. Chill vibes.”

I snort a laugh. There is something hugely entertaining about hearing Carter say ‘chill vibes’ while scowling as though he means to scare all those vibes away. He glances at me, nudging my arm with his elbow and rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Shut up,” he says, making me laugh harder.

“Chill vibes,” I mimic, making my voice sound low and threatening, like a growl.

“I do not sound like that,” he feigns offense, stepping forward and pulling open the door to The Pearl.

When he steps in behind me, I turn and see his shoulders visibly relax. The restaurant is only half full—we’ll be able to get a seat right away. A smiling woman wearing a half-apron approaches, eyes flicking between us. Carter is standing very close to me, arm pressed firmly against mine. It’s likely pretty obvious that we’re out on a date.

“Table for two?” She asks.

“Yes, please,” I reply. She beckons us forward and Carter’s hand finds my back again. Her smile grows.

“I’ve got just the table. Nice and private, and with a lovely view.”

So, definitely obvious that we’re on a date, then. I’m glad Carter doesn’t seem to mind; there is nothing worse than someone being ashamed of being romantically linked to you. He keeps his hand on my back this time, as we navigate through the other diners and tables. As I knew he would, Carter pulls out my chair once we reach the table and the hostess looks delighted. She waits until we are settled to explain the menu for the evening, her eyes warm as they bounce between us. The table is small—with our chairs pushed in, mine and Carter’s legs touch beneath the table. It would take nothing at all to reach out and touch his arm with my hand.

“Sound okay?” He asks, as she walks away to help the next patrons. I hadn’t been listening to the menu. I was too distracted by how warm Carter’s leg feels even through our jeans.

“Sounds great!” I pause as a server comes over to get our drink orders. “How was practice?”

“Good. Coach Mackenzie mentioned that Tony will be around for a few days off here soon, so he might come to practice,” he says, trying to sound as though this means nothing to him but failing. There is an unmistakable aura of glee around him. “It would be cool to see him again.”

“I saw that they won their last game after a shootout,” I tell him, smiling when his eyes widen in surprise. “I set a Google Alert on my phone so that I could get updates on South Carolina’s season.”

I sit there, proud of myself and basking in the shocked expression on Carter’s face. I’ve begun paying a little more attention to the sport now that he’s in my life, wanting to be a part of something that he so obviously loves. The surprise morphs into pleasure, and he treats me to a small smile.

“You’re following hockey?”

“Well, yes and no. Only your team and the South Carolina one. I don’t really care about all the rest.”

“Oh, but there are so many talented players worth watching.” He leans forward, eyes alight as he launches into a whole lot of sports talk that makes no sense to me at all. I listen, enjoying the cadence of his voice and the movement of his face as he talks. I try to picture what it might be like to kiss him, but I can’t quite wrap my mind around it. I bet he’d be good at it, though.

We’re interrupted by the server coming back with our drinks and food. Apparently, the catch of the day is seabass. It smells divine, and my stomach gurgles hungrily as I inhale. I can only imagine how hungry Carter must be, after coming from practice. Thankfully, the portion sizes here are ridiculously large.

“This smells amazing,” I groan, squeezing a lemon wedge over my fish.

“Right? I’m starving.”

We eat slowly, taking our time and chatting. Carter is so easy to talk to—attending closely to the conversation, his eyes intent on mine as I speak. He’s an excellent listener, and asks questions or lets me know when I say something he doesn’t quite understand. He doesn’t seem overly concerned that I’m more book smart than he is, almost indifferent to something that sometimes ends up being a big roadblock with others. Nobody likes feeling like they’re less intelligent than someone else.

I’m disappointed when we finish our meals and the server brings our check. Carter grabs it, eyeing me as he does so for any argument. I let him have this one, waiting until we are stepping out of the restaurant to thank him.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome. Do you still want to walk for a bit? Or we could go home, whatever you prefer,” his voice falls as he speaks, already anticipating me wanting to end the night.

“Let’s walk.” This time it’s me who touches Carter’s back and guides him into motion.

We stroll in silence, enjoying the warm evening and the salty smell of the air. It’s dark, but the Boardwalk has lights strung up and the windows of the shops are lit from within. Hallmark couldn’t have done it better. Carter has his hands tucked casually into his pockets; I glance at him, clearing my throat and drawing his attention to me.

“How do you feel about holding hands?” I ask, and enjoy his sputter of surprise.

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