Page 218 of Love in Riverbend
At our table, he asks me more questions. “If your significant other were to plan the perfect date, what would it be?” When I don’t answer, he offers, “Jetting to Paris, dinner, and a walk around the Eiffel Tower?”
I shake my head. “I’m much simpler.”
“Tell me.”
My lips curl at the idea. “I’ve never planned my own date, but if I did, I’d say dinner, but not at a restaurant. A home-cooked meal that includes some of my favorite dishes.” I giggle. “Here’s a secret—I’m not the world’s healthiest eater. Those dishes would include fettuccine or spaghetti.”
“Carbs.”
I nod. “And dessert.”
“Caramel ice cream.”
“Or cheesecake. No fruit, just a thick slice of cheesecake.”
The rest of the evening, we spend talking about mutual friends and avoiding the more personal subjects. It isn’t until our meal is complete that Ricky brings up tomorrow night’s dinner.
“If you tell me your address, I can pick you up for the dinner.”
“Where is the dinner?”
“Hotel Carmichael.” He grins. “Walkable from here.”
“Fancy.”
“Really? How fancy?”
I eye him up and down. “Dark-suit-fancy.” My thoughts go between the idea of Ricky in a tailored suit and wondering what I will wear. “I wasn’t expecting such a nice venue. Hotel Carmichael has only been open a few years.”
Ricky suddenly looks concerned. “I have one suit.”
“The partners are old-school. Change up the shirt and tie, and the suit won’t matter.”
He inhales, his nostrils flaring. “I’m feeling like tomorrow’s dinner is an interview.”
“Essentially, it is.”
He shrugs. “Even if I don’t get the job, I’ve had a good time tonight.” His lips curl upward. “What you said about the world beyond Riverbend being lonely, it is. And I have a roommate. Tonight was great, talking to someone and not having to pretend to be someone else.”
A roommate?
Is Ricky in a relationship?
Why ask me to this dinner?
“A roommate? Why not take her to the dinner?”
Ricky laughs. “Because she is a he.” He lifts his hands. “Always has been, to my knowledge. And in a nutshell, Max is the opposite of stable.”
I let out a breath, thankful he isn’t living with a woman, while also chastising myself for caring. “Ricky, tomorrow, don’t pretend to be anyone else. You’ve worked hard enough to be invited to this dinner. That doesn’t happen to everyone. The partners already see something in you. Just be you.” A smile lifts my cheeks. “I’m not sure I can refer to you as Rich or Richard.”
He reaches out, lifting his hand palm up on the table. “We’ve known each other for a long time and have been dating off and on.” He meets my gaze.
The din of diners around us disappears as I slowly lift my hand and place it in his. The warmth of his touch envelops me as he wraps his fingers around mine. When I look back up, he’s still staring at me.
“We’re on again,” he says, his deep voice rumbling like thunder, warning of an approaching storm. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Retrieving my hand, I inhale and sit taller. “This was nice, talking to someone. I hope you get the job you want, but remember what you said—no strings. As soon as tomorrow’s dinner is over, we’re off again.”
