Page 58 of Tangled

“Well, are you in the mood for Italian?”

My eyes widen when I realize I think I know where he’s going to take me. “Were you planning on going to Cristino’s?” I say a little too loudly with my excitement.

“Yeah. I take it that’s a good idea?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he turns to me.

“Yes! I love that place! And I haven’t been there since I moved back. Oh, my gosh, my stomach is rumbling at just the thought of their pasta and bread,” I moan, which makes Kane laugh beside me.

“Alright then… Cristino’s it is.”

When we arrive at the restaurant, it’s the same as it was when I left. The archways lined with vines and white lights encase the walkway leading up to the door. The Italian winery vibe you get when you walk in transports you to another part of the world, where food is everything and wine rules your palette. Cristino’s is a staple in Emerson Falls, a family-owned and operated Italian restaurant that has been here for nearly thirty years now.

I search around the room, eyeing the painted grape vines on the walls, the black wrought-iron tables covered in red table cloths, and the stacks of wine bottles along the shelves behind the hand-carved wooden bar. The smell of garlic and roasted tomatoes makes me breathe in deeply, savoring the aroma just as I hear Kane speak next to me to the hostess.

“Reservation for Kane for two,” he says.

“Absolutely. Your table is ready. Follow me this way, please,” she smiles while grabbing two menus and then ushering us to the back of the restaurant.

I let Kane lead me, walking past the kitchen where the clatter of metal and glass ring in my ears, accompanied by the magnificent smells of hand-crafted Italian food.

When we make it to our table, I’m delighted to see we’re in a little alcove, our rounded booth providing a little bit of privacy.

“Thank you,” I say as I slide in and Kane follows, reaching for the wine menu as the hostess walks away.

“I know you love wine, so what would you recommend?” He asks, scooting closer to me so we can both read the list. His scent hits me when he closed the distance between us, making my heart kick start in my chest. I try to focus back on the list, but all I see are a bunch of letters and words that make no sense. Having Kane this close to me again is making my mind a jumbled mess.

I clear my throat and narrow my eyes, willing my brain to comprehend the choices of wine. When I see one I recognize from a winery near my home in California, I point it out.

“This one is fantastic. It’s a cabernet, but it’s fairly mild, not as meaty as they usually are. So if you’re not usually a red wine drinker, that’s what I would recommend.”

Kane shuts the menu and then grabs the dinner one. “I trust you, so that’s what we’ll get. Now the real question is, what are we going to eat?” He grins over at me and wiggles his eyebrows, causing me to laugh at him before I search out the options.

Once the waitress comes by and takes our order, our wine arrives. Kane opted for a bottle, which was unnecessary, but he insisted. As I take the first sip, I hum in approval, making Kane freeze with his glass mid-air.

“Woman, can you please refrain from making noises like that in public? Do you not recall what I said to you today at the pep rally?”

I swallow and then smirk at him. “But we’re not at work and there are no students around. Plus, there’s a table blocking your lap,” I argue.

“Still. What if there’s a fire and we have to run out of the building? I can’t do that with a raging hard-on,” he fires back.

The thought of what Kane’s raging hard-on looks like flashes through my mind, instantly heating up my body and commencing the throbbing between my legs.

“Fair enough. But it is a part of your body. I’d say the control lands on you.”

Kane leans closer so his lips brush the shell of my ear. “Ican’tcontrol myself around you,” he whispers, making my breath hitch. I back away slightly so I can see his eyes.

“I feel like I’m having the same problem,” I reply honestly as we stare at each other.

Just when I feel like we’re about to jump each other’s bones in this booth, the waitress comes by with our salads and freshly-baked bread, providing us with a welcome break in the sexual tension. I know I want Kane again, badly. But I’m reminding myself that he has to be the one to set the parameters here, knowing I want to make sure he’s comfortable with how fast or slow we move. It took a lot of courage for him to put himself out there, and the last thing I want him to do is retreat because he feels like I’m progressing things too quickly. Plus, the idea of actually dating him and saving the physical stuff for later makes the anticipation build that much more. We’ve already slept together, and it was amazing—but I feel that now knowing that and prolonging the second time makes it even harder to wait.

“So, what questions are on the agenda for the evening? And please, nothing that’s going to make me cry,” I joke.

Kane finishes chewing before he answers. “I didn’t plan on anything serious, but I don’t know what may or may not make you cry, woman.”

“Fair enough. So, lay it on me,” I command as I see the twitch in Kane’s jaw. I’m going to guess that his thoughts in response to my declaration were not of the PG-rated variety.

He clears his throat and then reaches for his phone, finding his list. I still think this is the cutest thing.

“Okay, what TV series can you watch over and over again and never get tired of?”

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