Marco laughed, a deep and rich sound that made Casey smile. “Your ragazzo is very persuasive.”
Casey looked at Colt. “You did this? Not the show?”
“Guilty.”
“That’s right. You’re loaded.” She knew her voice had a tone.
“Is that...bad?”
“It’s just different. I mean, we’re about the same age, right?”
“I’m twenty-five,” he said.
“Twenty-four.” She realized he looked defensive and she grabbed his hand. “Hey. I don’t think it’s bad. I just...I live in a tiny apartment I share with my best friend. And we still barely cover it. We both work our butts off. This seems like...a dream.”
“I’ve worked really hard,” Colt said.
“Colt, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t. Can we...start over? This—” She swept a hand around the empty restaurant. “—is incredible. I feel so special. Thank you.”
He looked at her face for a moment, then seemed to relax. “It was my pleasure. I didn’t want to share you with anyone.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Now—the real question: table or booth?”
She surveyed the room. The lighting was low, with candles and flowers at each table. The white tablecloths and deep red accents made the space both comfortable and romantic. “Both.”
Colt cocked his head. “Both?”
“First a table, then a booth for dessert. I’m getting everything I possibly can out of this date. Can we sit near the kitchen, Marco? Might as well make things easier for you. Plus, we’ll get to smell everything as it’s cooking.”
He laughed again and led them to a table for four a few rows from the kitchen. Colt pulled out Casey’s chair and she sat, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. “Sarah will be back with water and bread. Buon appetite!” Marco said.
Colt sat, then jumped back up. “I almost forgot.” He jogged across the restaurant to the hostess table and returned with a bouquet of white tulips. Her favorite.
He kissed her on the cheek as he handed her the flowers. “Now it’s officially a date,” he said, his breath close to her ear. A thrill travelled down her body. He sat down across from her as a woman with gray hair tied neatly in a bun brought glasses of water. Colt jumped up and hugged her, then they kissed each other on both cheeks.
“Sarah,” he said warmly. “So good to see you.”
“It’s been too long, polpetto.”
“I promise I’ll be around more,” he said. “Soon. This is Casey.”
Her stomach flopped. Not friend. Not girlfriend. Just Casey. What could she expect? There was no good way—yet—to define their relationship. But she wanted that title. Girlfriend. Love of his life. Wife.
Like a punch to the gut, she realized that more than anything, she wanted to be called his wife. Which was just plain stupid. She had known this man for a few weeks. Not in their normal circumstances. Calm down, woman. Calm. Down. She took a breath to reset. If she didn’t get out of her own head, she was going to ruin their only time alone.
“Nice to meet you, Casey.” Sarah said.
“You too. It’s good to be here. This is...something,” she said, looking around the restaurant.
“It’s a first,” Sarah said, grinning sideways at Colt. “Maybe a last?”
Colt took Casey’s hand across the table and smiled just to her, setting all the butterflies in motion. “Would you like wine, Casey? Oh! I don’t even know if you drink.”
“I do, though I’m a lightweight. And I tend to drink the, um, bottom shelf? If that’s the right term.”
Colt made a face and Sarah laughed. “Let’s start with a bottle of my usual,” Colt said. “And a vase for the flowers? If it’s not too much trouble.”
“For you? Never,” Sarah said.
Casey hadn’t opened her menu. It was thick and had a heavy cover and she didn’t want to let go of Colt’s hand. “You clearly come here often.”