Page 8 of SnapShot

“Maybe a little, but aren’t we all? What do you say? I’m not proposing marriage for god’s sake; just let me take you out and see where it goes. I promise I’ll let you go eventually.”

“You’re not helping your case. If anything, I’m thinking I should hang up and block your number.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m not a serial killer or anything. Do you want to go out or not?”

“Fine. Yes. You can take me out on one date, and I’ll decide if you’re unhinged or not.”

His booming laughter takes up residence in my chest, stirring up all the sleeping butterflies.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight.”

“Okay.” A subtle beep is the only hint I get that he’s ended our call without a goodbye, and I realize what I just did.

Tick Tock, Chef

five

Tick Tock, Chef

Haedyn

My stomach is folding in on itself as I’m separating out my curls for the finishing touch on my look for tonight. I went with a casual western-type look: dark washed denim bell bottoms and a long sleeve white blouse with a plunged neckline filled with straps.

I added some classic silver hoop earrings along with Grams’s wedding ring that I wear as a good luck charm. It’s got a slim band with four diamonds on each side of the opal in the center. Paired with dress boots, and a cute bandanna as a headband, I think I’m ready to go.

Physically anyway. Mentally? That’s a different story. Just as I’m debating on canceling the whole thing, there’s an excited knock on the front door. Is it too late to run? Jump out the bathroom window? Probably.

I open the door to find an equally casually dressed Charlie that instantly makes me salivate. He’s wearing a plain form-fitting black tee, nice blue jeans, boots, and an Oakley hat turned backward that makes my eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my head if I don’t look away soon.

Without knowing what to do to make my brain turn back on, I turn back toward the living room to search for my purse.

“Well hello to you, too,” Charlie says as though I offended him. It’s only then that I realize I didn’t actually greet him.

“I’m sorry. I’m rude. Hello, Charlie. Are you ready to get this show on the road?”

“Ready when you are.”

Instead of responding, I squeeze past him and hurriedly make my way toward my truck.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you drive?”

“Maybe the fact that I don’t feel like getting stranded somewhere if this date goes terribly wrong?”

“I’ll make sure you get home safe, darlin’. It’d be awfully rude of me to not drive my woman around, especially on a date.”

Rolling my eyes at the thick gentleman act he’s slathering on, I relent and head to his truck.

“Here, let me,” he says as he rushes to grab the door handle on the passenger side. Resisting the urge to shove him away, I reluctantly thank him instead. It’s not his fault that I’ve never had someone try to give me the princess treatment.

He closes it and rounds the front of the vehicle to slide into the driver’s seat. His left hand holds the top of the steering wheel as he places his right hand on my headrest and turns to back out of the driveway. Why did it make me drool in more places than one? My god, I need to get laid. Get a grip, woman. Jesus.

The trip to his restaurant was spent silently enjoying the local country station on the radio, which I didn’t mind because I needed a minute to recollect myself. When we pull into the back of the lot, he wastes no time shutting off the engine and racing around to beat me to opening my door and leading us inside. The place is fancier than I would’ve thought with it being located in such a small town. Then again, Jolie is slightly bigger than Dovehaven, and neither had a place like this close enough to frequent.

“I hope you like steak.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” I grumble as I shoot him a menacing glare.

“That might put a damper on our relationship. What can I make you to eat then?”

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