Page 38 of Steeped In Problems

Tanner almost laughed. “You mean besides this one?”

She grinned. “That’s cheating. This isn’t even a real date.”

He leaned back. “Had a girl throw a drink at me once. Tequila. Burned like nobody’s business.”

“Wow,” she raised her eyebrows in shock. “What’d you do?”

He shrugged. “Told her I didn’t want to meet her kids on the first date.”

Kristy covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Your turn.”

She thought for a minute. “Got set up with a guy who showed up in a tuxedo...for Applebee’s.”

He raised a brow. “He was just trying to impress you.”

“I tried to overlook it, but he spent the entire time talking about his budget. Tried to get me to sign up for a rewards card before the check came.”

He shook his head. “You have terrible luck.”

She shrugged, but her eyes were dancing. “It’s why I think I’m destined to be alone.”

He looked at her, really looked, and saw the way she was half-joking, half-hoping he’d disagree.

“I don’t think that’s true. You’re too great a person for that to happen.”

Their food arrived—lasagna for him, fettuccine for her. He was about to dig in when he caught the look on her face.

“What?”

She gestured to his fork. “You’re supposed to feed me a bite. For the cameras.”

He raised his brow. “You’re making this up.”

She opened her mouth wide as a dare.

He speared a forkful and offered it. She leaned in, took it with a flourish, and chewed.

“Good,” she murmured, swallowing. “Now, your turn.”

She twisted her fork with expert skill and held it out. He leaned forward, careful not to look like a toddler, and took the bite. Sauce dripped down his chin, and he wiped it away fast.

She was laughing at him, but he didn’t mind. Not even a little.

It went like that for the rest of the meal—silly, light, easy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten with someone and not kept one eye on the exit.

The waiter brought dessert—tiramisu because Kristy insisted it was non-negotiable. She scraped the plate clean, then licked her fork, unashamed. Tanner laughed, for real, this time.

“Never seen anyone go at dessert like that,” he told her.

She grinned. “Life’s too short for dignity.”

Kristy talked about her old job, the stories that had stuck with her—kids who made it, old women who didn’t, and the way every night felt like a coin flip between hope and disaster. Tanner listened the way he used to when taking reports or coldcalls. She had a way of making even the sad stuff sound like it mattered.

He found himself wanting to tell her things he hadn’t told anyone. How he hated being watched now, hated the way people looked at him like he was a reminder of something that could happen to anyone, any day.

He wanted to tell her more secrets, but then Kristy went still, her eyes locked on the door.

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