"And what kind was it?”
“Rémy Martin."
She tilted her head to the side. "V.S.O.P.?"
"Yeah. Why?" If she was hunting for ideas for a host gift or something, he didn't want her spending money on the expensive stuff.
She shrugged. "Just curious, that's all."
"What about you?" he asked.
"My favorite drink? I enjoyed your brandy. I'm not much of a drinker. I can't say that I really have a favorite, but if pushed, I’d say Rémy Martin."
He met her gaze, and something in his chest felt as though it loosened a little more when she added, "Because it's yours."
It hit him in that moment that this was a date – and he wasn't doing a very good job of it. He was too relaxed. She was too easy to talk to. She felt more like a friend than a date.
She chuckled. "You just had one of those thoughts again, I can tell. Are you weirded out because I copied your favorite drink?"
He laughed. "No, nothing like that." Meeting her gaze, he added, "And I'm not going to tell you what I was thinking. I'd only screw it up."
To his relief, she didn't seem upset by his words. "Fair enough. Do you want some of that coffee cake, then?"
~ ~ ~
By the time they'd made it back down the mountain, Amelia was hoping that she hadn't messed up somehow. She didn't think she had, but they'd agreed that if they enjoyed their day together, they’d figure out where they wanted to go for dinner this evening – and Ford hadn't mentioned it yet.
It struck her that she wouldn't normally be quietly wondering – and if she were honest, worrying – about what a guy was thinking. She'd just ask. She knew what was different with Ford, though – she wasn't coming right out and asking because she didn't want to hear him say that he'd changed his mind. Of course she'd be fine if after spending the day with her, he didn't want to go on an evening date. She'd be fine, but she'd be disappointed.
Maybe the initial attraction had worn off for him. Maybe she should have put in more of an effort. He had said that she wasn't what he expected, and maybe what he'd liked about her was his misguided belief that she was some kind of a lady.
She glanced over at him, and when he turned to meet her gaze, a rush of warmth filled her chest. She wanted to keep getting to know him. Wanted to go out on more dates with him, spend time with him. And if she hadn't made the best impression so far, she could make up for it. She wasn't about to admit defeat just yet.
He chuckled. "Now it's my turn to ask what the look on your face means. You look … determined."
She took a breath and decided to be honest. She could make more of an effort, but she couldn't change her basic nature. She was straightforward, and if he had a problem with that, then there'd be no point.
"That's because I am," she told him. "I'm determined to make you want a second date."
He slowed the truck – which was quite a relief since they'd been bouncing over the track that passed as a road for a while now. When he brought it to a stop, he turned in his seat to face her.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I feel like I messed up somehow today. And I'd like another chance."
He gave her a puzzled smile. "You didn't mess up."
"No?"
"Hell, no. I thought maybe I did."
"You didn't. Why would you think that?"
He shrugged. "Because I felt too comfortable with you."
That made her smile. "I was thinking the same thing myself. I thought maybe it was so comfortable because there was no spark there."
His eyes turned a deeper shade of green as he rested his elbows on the console and leaned toward her. "Come here." He beckoned with one finger.