Page 8 of Protecting What Is Mine

I stutter, trying to find the words to clarify who I meant.

“Oh, you probably mean Chet?” He chuckles to himself. “He’s stable. The doctors say his heartbeat and breathing are strong…so I guess that’s good. But he hasn’t woken up yet.”

My hand covers my chest. “Still? After a week? I can’t begin to imagine how hard this must be for your family. I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve been around Chet enough. Even if it’s only from the diner. The man is the walking definition of tough. Hell, if he woke up right now, I bet the first thing he’d say is how much he’s enjoyed the peace and quiet. Nah. I’m not worried. Not like I was. His body just needs time, is all.”

I reach across the table and place my hand on his. “I think that’s the right attitude to have. The only way to think in times like these.” Hank looks at my hand on his and smiles.

I clear my throat. “Does anyone know what happened to him?”

The light, joyful look on Hank’s face fades and his lips purse as he turns his attention back to his plate. “We know he was shot, but that’s about it. I guess the sheriff’s an old personal friend of the family, so I’m hopeful he’ll get to the bottom of things. Sooner or later.”

The information catches me completely off guard. Shot? Like, by a gun? Around here? That would be front page news, if there was a newspaper small enough to worry with the goings-on in our little corner of the world. Learning that the Wildes are personal friends with the sheriff also comes as a surprise. Though it probably shouldn’t. A thing like that makes perfect sense. They are pillars of the community after all. Of course they’d be friends with the sheriff.

But it sits in stark contrast to my family. The closest any of my relatives would ever come to a statement like that is being ‘known by law enforcement.’ And let’s be honest, it’s not quite the same thing.

While Hank works at his meatloaf and mashed potatoes, I try to steer the conversation to lighter topics. He uses the last of his roll to wipe up the gravy, then pops the morsel in his mouth and sits back in his chair, sated. “I cannot thank you enough for lunch. This was the best surprise.”

I feel myself blush again. “You are quite welcome. Not a typical first date, but then again, nothing we’ve planned seems to have worked out like we intended yet, has it?”

Hank leans forward, resting his elbows against the edge of the table as he takes my hand in his. “No, ma’am. Huh-uh. No way does this count. You deserve way better than an iced tea in a hospital cafeteria.” He shakes his head. “The women in my family would never let me hear the end of it. Not to mention Gabe, but then again with the way he acts, he’s probably the biggest woman in the family.” Hank chuckles to himself, but I don’t quite get the joke.

“Alright then. Still no first date.” I frown a little. “The cheer squad back home waiting for an update will not be pleased to hear it.”

“I didn’t know you had a cheer squad.” Hank runs his hand through his hair. “That sounds serious.”

“Oh yeah. It took quite a bit of work for them to convince me to come here in the first place.”

“I see. Well then.” Hank scratches at his chin. “It’s not much, but how’d it be if we make a date for a date?”

“How do you mean?” I ask.

“Well. I know we’ve tried—and failed—to go out…what, like a half-dozen times?”

I nod. “Something like that.”

“So, it seems foolish to try to make plans now…I mean, until Chet’s condition improves. That might just end up in another cancellation. You know?”

“I do.”

“So how about we start planning what we want our first evening together to be. But not just an ordinary night out…your perfect evening. Whatever you want, the sky’s the limit. Then the only thing we’ll have left to figure out is when it will be. Think that will buy you some leeway with the squad?”

Our first evening together? Does that mean he’s already thinking about evenings after that?

I squeeze his hand. “I think it will.”

Hank stands. “Good. Then it’s a date…well, uh…for a date.”

I slide my chair back and stand as well. “Indeed.”

Hank crooks his elbow to allow my arm through. “I should probably get back to the room soon. Family will be wondering where I got off to. Can I walk you to your car?”

“That would be lovely.”

This went so much better than I ever thought possible. I know I’ll never hear the end of it when I get home.

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