Page 22 of High Frequency

Seven

Sloane

“This is new.”

I take in what used to be an old, ramshackle house in downtown Libby, which now has been converted into a quaint restaurant.

Wild Bitesis the name on a sign hanging in the front yard.

“Hope you still like game?”

I grin at Dan who offered to carry Aspen in her car seat. When he asked if I would have dinner with him, I told him that would be contingent on whether or not I could bring my daughter. It’s still Sunday, and unless there is a work-related emergency, I don’t want to leave her with a babysitter on the weekend.

To be honest, I was a little ambivalent about sharing a meal with him—especially now I see what a nice restaurant he’s taking me to—but I didn’t have the heart to say no right after he told me about Jackson. He seemed to have been hit hard with that news and, frankly, I was flattered he felt comfortable talking to me. It almost felt like it used to be between us before I tried to turn us into something else.

And ruined it all.

When I told Pippa why I wouldn’t be around for dinner, her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline but, to her credit, she didn’t pry.

We ended up taking my Jeep because of Aspen’s car seat, but Dan insisted on driving. It’s funny, that would’ve been something I’d have been offended by eight years ago—interpreting it as overbearing and even misogynistic—but it didn’t bother me today.

Mind you, I wouldn’t have taken it well had I been on the job, but it seemed to be just old-fashioned chivalry. Kind of sweet, actually.

As is him carrying Aspen and holding open the door to the restaurant for me with his free hand.

“Reservation for Blakely,” his mellow voice sounds behind me as he addresses the restaurant hostess.

“Of course. Right this way.”

I follow her into what, at some point, must have been the living and dining rooms, but is now a large open space with a beautiful stone fireplace centered on the front wall and large windows on either end. I feel the heat of Dan’s hand in the small of my back as I navigate through the tables to one by the window the woman leads us to.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Dan abruptly drops his hand from my back at the comment. When I turn around to see who the voice belongs to, he’s already facing off with two women sitting a couple of tables away from us.

One of them has a curious expression on her face but the other one looks like she could spit nails.Yikes. I’m going to take a wild guess the grumpy one is the Vandermeers’ daughter, Shelby. She looks like she’s pretty serious to me, despite what Pippa told me.

I don’t want my child to be in the middle should liquid, china, or utensils start flying, so I reach around Dan to grab the car seat.

“I’ve got her,” I mumble, and rush to join the woman waiting with the menus at our table.

Behind me I can hear a shrill, “Does she know?”

I try not to listen to Dan’s voice, his reply just too low for me to hear, and focus on the hostess. She tells me our waitress’s name is Natalie, who will be with us shortly. Then I set Aspen’s seat on one of the chairs so she’s facing the table. I take the seat next to her, making sure my back is toward what sounds like it may be turning into a bit of a scene.

Perhaps the better move is to cut my losses, grab my daughter, and bail, but I don’t want to create more of a scene. Despite the slightly sick feeling in my stomach, this may actually be for the best. It certainly is a good reminder, anything more than friendship between Dan and me is a bad idea.

“Sorry about that.”

I note he pulls out the chair on the other side of me, instead of the one across the table. I guess, like me, he’d prefer to look out the window over facing the other diners.

“No worries,” I assure him.

“I should probably?—”

“Hi, I’m Natalie.” The server cuts Dan off as she pours ice water in the glasses on the table. “I’ll be looking after you tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?”

Then she catches sight of Aspen, whose eyes barely poke out over the table.

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