Page 19 of Heron's Flame

“It’s not over yet.” I winked. “Come on.”

We left the Aquarium and walked outside, noting the sun dropping lower to the horizon. Perfect. The heat had eased a little. I had a place in mind to eat and hoped she’d enjoy the spot.

“Hungry?”

Her stomach rumbled in response. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got just the place.”

“Lead, and I’ll follow.”

She couldn’t have said anything better.

Chapter 6 Rebel

When Heron parked his bike, I couldn’t have been more surprised at the restaurant he picked out. I’d heard of Gaetano’s. Fancy. Expensive. Intimate.

I loved that he decided to bring me here. He wasn’t joking earlier when he said he intended to make me hot and bothered and ready to jump into bed with him. He was a lot craftier than I imagined.

The aquarium was a nice touch today. Heron must have gotten the idea from my nails. I knew he saw the shark along with the crow, motorcycle, flames, and pink carnation—all my favorite things. Sometimes, I wasn’t so great at verbally expressing myself, but I knew he’d pick up on my silent signals.

The sexy biker must have snuck and reserved a table when I wasn’t paying attention. It wouldn’t have been hard inside the aquarium. I’d been pleasantly distracted the entire time. The hostess led us to a table in the back corner. The darkened room and candlelight provided a cozy, romantic atmosphere as we sat across from one another at a booth.

Heron picked up a menu and handed it over, not bothering to look at his. “I’ve tried almost every dish here. Everything is delicious.”

“Any recommendations?”

“I suggest we start with bruschetta and fried artichoke hearts, then move on to the house salad. What do you prefer? Steak, chicken, or meatballs? Linguine and alfredo or tomato-based sauce?”

“Tomato, for sure. I’d like to try the four cheese ravioli.”

“Any meat?”

I almost rolled my eyes. I glanced from the menu to Heron and noticed his lecherous grin. “Meatballs.”

“Done. I’m going to sample the fettuccine alfredo and lasagna and add a side of jumbo shrimp. Anything else?”

I shook my head. “I think there’ll be plenty.”

When he said sample, that wasn’t exactly what he meant. Heron devoured everything brought out to him, but he shared a bit from every plate, ensuring I got to try anything I wanted.

I sat across from him, drinking a glass of Moscato after I pushed my plate toward him, not surprised when he ate the rest of my pasta. “So, I have a question.”

He nodded, swirling his fork in noodles. “Go for it.”

“Why do you wear shirts with wild prints?”

He snorted before eating the bite on his fork. He chewed, swallowed, and then set the utensil down. “Well, I guess that would have to do with my dad. I grew up traveling a lot since he was in the military when he was younger until we moved to Las Vegas and put down some roots. I lost him a few years ago.” Heron’s voice lowered in pitch, and I could tell it wasn’t easy to talk about it.

“I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“Very. One of his favorite memories was the time he spent in Hawaii. He used to love shirts with floral prints.”

Heron smiled, and it looked bittersweet.

“He’d roll up the sleeves like he used to do with his uniform, up over his bicep, and I copied him. I’d follow him all over the house and yard and do what he did.” Heron cleared his throat. “He wasn’t my biological father, but he’s the only one I’ve ever known.”

Oh, wow. “You’re adopted.”

---