Page 33 of Sugar Coated Secrets

I flush. “Yes.”

“What is she talking about?” Grandma asks, looking between us.

Mary walks over and fluffs her pillows so Grandma is more comfortable. “I got her a thong so she wouldn’t have panty lines in that dress.”

“It feels like you’re wearing nothing, Grandma. You should try it,” I say playfully.

“Good. Mary will get me one next time I go dancing,” she teases.

“A red one,” I say.

“Black,” Grandma says, “so it will show when I wear a short white skirt.”

“Grandma, you’re worse than Mary.”

The doorbell rings, and my stomach drops. “He’s here.”

Danny takes me to Mick’s, a bar and restaurant tucked away on the corner of Main Street. It’s inviting, with warm-amberlighting casting a soothing glow over the pavement below, and it is the nicest dining establishment in town.

The air was heavy with the subtle scent of hops, grilled steakand the richness of freshly polished wood within. Made of dark wood, the bar's surface was smooth and weathered from years of laughing and friendly elbows. Behind the bar, the shelves were adorned with rows of meticulously organized bottles, each catching the light and demonstrating the precision of choosing them.

Danny gives me a tentative smile with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as we wait to be shown to our table. He has been a gentleman since he picked me up. I was a little embarrassed at the state of the house, but he didn’t seem to notice all the things that needed to be fixed.

“You look beautiful, Dulce,” he says softly as the hostess approaches. My cheeks feel hot, and I hope I don’t look as red as a tomato.

“Right this way,” the hostess says.

Danny leads, following her to our table. I fidget with the hem of my dress. My eyes dart around the room, searching for a familiar face and hoping I don’t run into Ford.

The music is loud, but I can still hear the boisterous laughter and pool play from the bar area in the back of the restaurant.

We are seated at a table with a view of the bar section nestled near a window. I sit across from Danny. My hands are sweaty in my lap. I'm not used to eating in a restaurant. I don’t know what to order and don’t want to make it obvious that this is my first date. The last time I went out to a formal restaurant was when I was nine. There was a kid's menu with only four choices, and my mom ordered for me.

I look down at the menu, the letters swimming before my eyes from the many selections. I flip the menu over, and the drink menu is worse. Different wines, spritzers, beer, and soft drinks.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes soft as he watches me.

I’ve never been to a restaurant as an adult, but I can’t say that. I can’t tell him I’ve never been on a date or had my first kiss. It’s embarrassing. It will bring up the past, and that is the last thing I want to do right now.

“Yes,” I say, a bit uneasily.

I’ve been so nervous since he showed up. I felt like such an idiot when I almost slipped getting in his truck. I wasn’t aware the steps opened automatically. He must think I’m stupid for giving him one-word answers. It feels like I have mothballs in my mouth.

I look up for a minute and see the effort he put into his appearance. He looks different outside of his uniform. He smells nice and wears blue jeans and a light blue short-sleeved shirt neatly pressed open at the throat. His skin is smooth and bronzed from the sun. His hair looks the same, combed over to the left side. My eyes fall on his arm, where all the tattoos disappear under his sleeve.

The server approaches our table with practiced ease. Something dark flickers in her gaze when she spots Danny. A worried look crosses Danny’s features.

“Welcome to Mick’s. My name is Roxie,” she says with a saccharine smile. “How are you two enjoying your evening so far?” It must be nice when someone calls and shows up.”

My appetite plummets at the familiar way she looks at him. I wasn’t aware he was seeing someone. Underneath her brittle smile, she is pretty. With curly brown hair with highlights you could only get at a salon, expertly applied makeup, and afull figure, she’s making me feel imperfect, a feeling I’m well acquainted with.

“Don’t do this, Roxie,” he says in a low tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says with a forced smile, her jealousy seeping through the veil of professionalism. Her eyes land on me, and I want the chair to swallow me under the dirty looks she gives me. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have water,” I rush out. “How do you guys know each other?”

She glances at Danny and back. “We went out on a few dates.Overnightdates. Did he not tell you about me?”

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