Page 44 of Back On Ice

Swallowing roughly, I nod. “I don’t plan on it.”

He pats my back right as Sophie approaches. “Oh,” she acts surprised and points between Tom and I, “were you actually takinghimon the date?”

“No, that’s next week.” Tom winks at her and I roll my eyes.

“You wish, Hartwell.” My tone is deadpan and Sophie laughs the light, sparkling laugh that I’ve missed so much. Smiling at the flowers, Sophie passes them off to Tom, before we bid the two of them goodbye and walk down the front steps of the porch, my hand on her lower back.

I hear the door click shut behind us and Sophie stops, looking at the vehicle on the curb. “That’s not your car.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” I grin, taking her hand and leading her to the brand new red pickup truck I rented just for our date tonight. “Does it look familiar?”

“It’s…” She looks up at me, her face shining with emotion, “it’s just like the one you used to borrow from your dad when we’d go down to the lake. It’s even the same color.”

“It’s about ten years newer, but I thought it would be nice.”

“It’s perfect.” Her smile is bright, and I would do literally anything to keep that look on her face forever.

We ride to the restaurant in comfortable silence, and it takes me back to years ago, when I would drive us to the movies, or the lake, or whatever date we had planned. My fingers itch to reach for hers across the middle console, but I hold back. She’sjustopened back up to me and I don’t want to come on too strong.

I pull the truck up to the front of the restaurant and roll down my window, while Sophie looks at me in confusion, “I don’t think you can park here, Carter?—”

She’s cut off by the approach of the valet. “Mr. Williams! I can take your keys.”

“Oh,” she says quietly, shifting in her seat.

“Let me get the door for you,” I hop out of the truck, passing my keys to the valet, and make my way around to the passenger side. Sophie places her hand in mine when I move to help her out, and we walk hand-in-hand into the restaurant.

We’ve made the relatively short drive to Willow Creek, home of the nicest restaurant in a fifty mile radius—The Elysian Table. Valet, a maitre d, and a months-long waiting list for a reservation. Unless, of course, you’re an NHL hockey star.

“Mr. Williams,” the maitre d greets us when we walk in, and Sophie stiffens slightly. “Miss.” He nods at her. “Please allow me to take you two to your table.”

“Thank you,” I scan the nametag on his black vest, “Antonio.”

Once we reach our table at the back, I pull out Sophie’s seat and she gives me a tentative smile. Antonio hands us both menus, and I open mine, looking over our options. After tonight, she’ll see that I can give her the best of what life has to offer. I can provide for her.

“Good evening, Mr. Williams.” The waiter comes over and pours us glasses of water. Sophie looks down nervously, her brow furrowing. “Would you care for some wine? Any appetizers?”

“I think we need just a moment, please,” I say kindly, giving him an apologetic smile. I’m not planning on rushing Sophie’s choices, I want to get her anything she wants.

“Take your time.” The waiter nods his head and heads off to his next table, allowing us a longer opportunity to look at the menu.

Sophie seems tense tonight. Which is strange because up until we pulled up to the restaurant, she seemed at ease. Happy, even. Is she worried about something? Surely, she can’t think I’d make her pay for half the check. That must be the issue.

“I’m not sure…” Sophie trails off, and she bites her lip the way she does when she’s thinking.

“Don’t look at the prices.” The order comes out hard, so I quickly reach my hand across the table, caressing hers softly. “It’s all on me tonight, Angel. Okay?”

“The appetizers cost what I pay Kerry for a half day at the shop.” Her lips purse as her eyes briefly meet mine, but she doesn't pull her hand away. Was this a mistake, bringing her here? I know things aren’t exactly luxurious for her, but I thought… I guess I thought she’d be impressed.

“I feel massively underdressed,” Sophie mutters, eyeing the menu again.

“You look beautiful.” I put my menu down and give her a look. “You’re the most striking woman here.”

Her cheeks flush again, “Thank you, but… that’s not what I mean.” She sighs at my confused expression and gently disentangles her hand from mine, motioning around the room. “I mean, this is a summer dress, Carter. Not a fancy-ass-restaurant-dress. There’s a woman over there wearing an actual designer dress and pearls. Real pearls.”

Yeah, okay. I fucked up. This clearly isn’t a place Sophie is comfortable being, and I just got completely carried away trying to make myself look good for her.

I sigh, pushing up abruptly from the table and hold my hand out to Sophie. “Fuck it. I don’t know why I’m so nervous trying to impress you. You’ve never cared about fancy stuff before, why would you start now?”

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