Page 21 of Hooked on Dallas
After we hung up, I race to my closet, flinging dresses and shoes everywhere. What does one wear to a date with their boss? I settle on a little black dress, modest but figure-hugging, and a pair of killer red heels.
As I did my makeup, my nerves jangled. Is this a mistake? But the memory of his smile surfaces in my mind, melting my anxiety. I want to see where this leads. I am tired of playing it safe. It is time for an adventure.
I glance in the mirror and don’t recognize the woman staring back - a woman ready to take a chance on love. With a smile, I grab my purse and head out the door. The night is full of promise.Mr. De La Cruz better be prepared. I am not his assistant tonight.
We meet at an upscale Italian restaurant, all white tablecloths and low lighting. I spot him at a corner table, dressed in a sleek suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders. When he sees me, he stands and smiles. Not his usual smug grin, but something warmer, shyer.
“You look stunning,” he says, pulling out my chair.
“Thank you.” I sit, formal. “You look very nice yourself.”
“Shall we order some wine?”
Over antipasto and red wine, we chat about work, our families, hobbies. He is an excellent conversationalist, listening and asking thoughtful questions. I find myself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of our banter, realizing how much I enjoy his quick wit and challenging mind.
When the waiter brings our main courses, Mr. De La Cruz says, “I’m interested in getting to know you better.”
My heart skips. So this is an actual date. I take a sip of wine to hide my smile. “I think this will make working together quite interesting.”
He chuckles. “Your trouble, Ms. Stevens.”
Our lively debate over certain cases segues into a walk in the nearby park. The air is crisp, scented with blooms. Moonlight filters through the trees, dappling the path.
Dallas takes my hand, his fingers warm and sure around mine. I glance at him to find his gaze already on me, soft with tenderness. My heart skips a beat.
Perhaps sensing my sudden shyness, he says, “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I should have asked before taking your hand.”
“No, not at all,” I say. “I like it.”
He squeezes my hand and we continue walking, shoulders brushing. I steal glimpses of his profile, struck by how content I feel strolling with him under the stars. It is as if I’ve known him for years rather than months.
We pause on a bridge overlooking a pond. Dallas leans on the railing, gazing out at the rippling water. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone for a long time,” he says.
I turn to him, heartbeat quickening. “Me either.”
“But I think it’s best if we take things slow.”
Disappointment flickers, but I appreciate his restraint. “You’re right.” I squeeze his hand. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“The pleasure was mine.” He gazes at me with a tenderness that makes my knees weak. “Goodnight, Laura. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.” I watch him go, heart full and tingling with anticipation of what the future may hold. What an adventure this is turning out to be indeed.
14
Laura
The sun dips behind the trees in Central Park. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and glances over at Mr. De La Cruz, my stomach fluttering with nerves.
After weeks of casual flirting over case files and coffee runs, we have been seeing each other. I can’t believe this is happening.
We walk in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the tranquility of the park at dusk. The only sound is the crunch of gravel under our feet and the chirping of crickets beginning their nightly chorus.
When we emerge onto Central Park West, the sun has nearly set, bathing the city in shades of purple and rose.
Mr. De La Cruz glances down at me, eyes gleaming. “Dinner?”
I squeeze his hand, warmth flooding my chest. “Definitely.”
