Page 94 of Housebroke

He opened the door. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, Gordon on one side of her, Mitzi asleep at her feet, laptop on her lap. She didn’t even look up.

“I said I was busy.”

“I’m taking you to dinner tonight. We need to talk. Nice steak and seafood house. Seven p.m.” He closed the door before she could object and headed to his room and straight to the shower, hoping she wouldn’t burst in and tell him to go straight to hell.

He took his time in the shower, scrubbing off the day’s grime, then stood in the closet deciding what to wear, as if that was the most important decision of his life when it very likely wouldn’t matter at all. Knowing Hazel and her mood lately, she wouldn’t even want to go to dinner with him. But he was still going through with the preparations. He chose brown slacks and a white button-down shirt, went downstairs, fed the dogs, and took them outside, grateful for the uncharacteristic cool breeze that had swept through today. He didn’t know how long it would last, but he’d take it right now.

The door opened, and he held his breath as Hazel walked out wearing a copper-colored sleeveless dress that clung to every curve, highlighting her moonless-night black hair, which fell in dark waves across her shoulders.

“Damn,” he said. “You’re stunning.”

“And you’re demanding.”

“Yeah, sorry. But I really want to talk to you.”

She didn’t smile, but she didn’t punch him, either. Instead, she shrugged. “Fortunately for you, I’m hungry.”

“Then let’s go.”

He didn’t want her climbing in his dirty truck, so they took her car. The dead silence was uncomfortable, but he’d endure it because she’d agreed to come. She stared out the window while he drove. He tried to make small talk, but she only responded with one- or two-word answers.

Okay, so this wasn’t going to be easy. But he was determined to break through this wall she’d put up between them.

When they got to the restaurant, he told the hostess his name and they were seated right away. He’d chosen this place because it was quiet and private, so they could have a conversation without other people around to eavesdrop.

They’d gotten lucky and scored a corner table even further removed from the other guests. It had a view of the water and felt cozy and private.

“This is nice, huh?” he asked after their server left the wine list and food menu.

“Yes. Very.”

He studied the wine menu, then slid it over to Hazel. “Thoughts on wine?”

She looked at it for a bit. “We could do a merlot. It would go well with either steak or seafood. Or a sauvignon blanc if you prefer a white.”

“Either works for me. You choose which one you want.”

She pursed her lips. He was dying to kiss her. He missed kissing her, missed the feel of her skin against his. Even a chair away he could smell her.

Peaches. He loved peaches. He could lick her neck right now. At least he’d start there, then pull that dress off of her and taste her all over.

“The merlot, I think,” she finally said, pulling him from his dirty fantasies.

He ordered a bottle of the merlot when their server returned. When he turned back to Hazel, her face was buried in the menu. A big, thick, leather-covered menu.

He’d been menu blocked. Okay, he could still talk to her. He’d make her talk to him.

“Hazel.”

He heard a mutteredhmmin response.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The menu dipped, just enough for him to see her eyes. “I have not.”

“Come on. Yeah, you have. Why?”

“Because... well, the reason doesn’t matter.” She still hadn’t fully dropped the menu.

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