Page 58 of Bone Dust

“You’ll see her soon,” she assures. “Tonight’s for the adults.”

I look around. “Adults?” I tease. “You say that as if there’s more than one in the room.”

She rolls her eyes, tucks a small, beaded purse under her arm, and issues a look. “Well, this adult is famished. Ready?”

I capture her arm, and she looks down at the spot.

“Something wrong?” she says as she looks up and meets my eyes with her beautiful blues.

“One minute.”

Her brows pinch.

“Just, thank you. You talked me down off a ledg?—”

“Dinner. Remember? No pressure.”

Her eyes twinkle and I lose myself in her gaze. I breathe in a deep, fresh supply of oxygen clearing away troublesome thoughts, savoring this moment and the way she makes me feel like a million bucks. The pink hue in her cheeks warms in intensity and the sight causes a tightening in my chest. Looking into her eyes, I bear the sweet squeeze with ease.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet and easy, both of us content to listen to the soft jazz filling the space. When we arrive, I park, and she reaches for the door.

“Stop.” I place my hand atop hers. “Let me, please.”

She pauses, clearly understanding my intent as she nods and waits patiently. I come around the car, open her door, and offer her my hand. As we approach the entry door, she stops while I hold that door open as well, then slips her arm through mine as we approach the hostess. “Reservation for Barrows.”

“Of course, Mr. Barrows.” The woman looks down at a seating list on the dark oak stand as she retrieves two menus. “Follow me, please.”

We do, trailing behind her to a beautiful, shaded courtyard. It’s a joined outdoor space in the rear of four buildings. In each corner, they’ve mounted large fans, cooling off the Nevada heat. The buildings are old, but the age adds character to an otherwise bland space. In the middle is a huge, three-tiered fountain. Water trickles down the sides, providing a tranquil setting. We follow our hostess to a table for two, topped with a crisp, white tablecloth and a low-sitting floral arrangement with a candle lit within a globe in the center. Soft, lush, creamy blush-colored roses are framed with bunches of smaller blooms, so slight they seem to float around the bigger flower heads. I look over at Savannah who’s soaking it all in. We steal a quick glance at each other as I hold the chair out for her and then take my seat.

“Your waiter will be with you in a moment,” the hostess chimes as she hands us menus.

Savannah gives me a look then follows the woman with her eyes. Once the hostess is out of hearing range, she leans toward me with a hiked brow. “Barrows? As in Dash?”

“Yeah.” I shrug it off. “It’s probably not an issue these days, but I didn’t want my name to trigger any camera-happy sleaze bags.”

She nods, indicating she understands, and we turn our attention to the menus, making small talk about what sounds tasty. When our waiter arrives, he interrupts the chatter. After reciting the specials of the day, he takes our order for drinks, then disappears as soft Italian songs play in the background.

“I’ve never been here before, but Cora says the food’s delicious,” Savannah says, breaking the silence.

“It’s definitely a change from Mad Dog.”

“I like it,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Her eyes light with delight as she glances around the room. “It’s cozy.”

I agree with a nod. Over her shoulder I see the waiter approach with our drinks. He offers me a sample of the wine and I hand it to Savi.

“I think the lady is a better judge of what she’d like.” The man defers to Savi.

“It’s delicious,” she says, approving. He pours more into the glass, takes our order, and leaves.

“So, what do you like to do in your free time?”

“Free time?” Amusement sparkles in her eyes, the effect highlighted by the flickering candle. “There’s little of that in my life. I’d say, when Gigi’s asleep, normal house chores are done, and when it gets quiet, I like to read,” she answers. “But I also love being outside. Gigi and I go for hikes or walks. I like getting her out of the house to appreciate nature. She loved your ranch, what she could see of it.”

The sound of Savi’s voice is something I could listen to all day. It’s soft and sweet, and I find myself taking mental note of her interests.

“What about you?” she asks, turning the tables.

“I like working on my ranch. It beats going to the gym.” I shrug indifferently.

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