Page 170 of Small Town Firsts
“Miss,” the maître d’ said, pulling out the chair opposite me while I stood and stared. Mutely.
Smooth, dude. Real smooth.
Ally shot me a sidelong glance as she skirted around me to slip into her seat. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your meal.” The maître d’ melted away and almost immediately, our server appeared.
I dropped into my chair and accepted the wine list, ordering a bottle of rosé for the table before my brain clicked back into gear.
Ally kicked me as soon as the server went to fulfill my request. “Hi there, remember me? I wanted a martini.”
“Since when?” Oh look, my lips could come unglued long enough to stick my foot between them.
“Since I felt like a damn martini. What is wrong with you?” She leaned forward and laid a hand on my forehead. “You’re flushed. Do you have a fever?”
“Some virus is running through Laurie’s class, so maybe.” I eased away from her hand and she picked up her napkin. Her touching me right now was not the best idea.
My cock thought it was awesome, but that part of me wasn’t known for its good judgment.
“And you left her with a babysitter just to come out with me?”
“She’s not sick,” I snapped irritably. “And I left her with her uncle. Oliver took her to the Faraday party so he doesn’t have to stay long.”
Ally paused midway through spreading her napkin on her lap. “He brought your little girl to a fancy work party? Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I’m having dinner with you.”
“Oh, right, because this is such an important event that you can’t miss it.”
“I haven’t seen you since the weekend. Every time I stop in the diner, you’re not there.”
“Darn. Must’ve missed you.” She glanced out the window. “Damn rain. Can barely see the lake.”
“Yeah, you’re wet.” I brushed a damp curl away from her cheek and she bristled, backing away from my touch just as I’d done.
My words hung in the air between us. Heavy, rich with meaning well beyond what I’d intended.
“In your dreams, Hamilton,” she said, her taunt falling short of the target.
She didn’t know my dreams. I was only beginning to fathom their scope myself.
Our server returned with our bottle of wine. After pouring it into two glasses, I ordered Ally a martini even though her stare nearly burrowed a hole into the side of my head.
If she wanted a martini, a martini she would have. With an extra olive I could steal.
“He probably thinks I’m a wino,” she muttered as she opened her menu.
“Can’t please you, woman.”
“Sure, you can. Stop ordering for me like this is a date. We never order for each other.”
“I beg to differ. Did you or did you not order the tiramisu for me the last time we went out?”
“That’s because it was a sacrilege you’d never had it. And you licked the plate clean.” She disappeared behind her menu and I grinned down at mine, barely resisting the urge to make a sly remark.
Thankfully, we were back on an even keel. If she stayed hidden behind that menu, I might not be starstruck by just the sight of her again.
Maybe I did have a fever.
