Page 15 of Heart Set on You

“How are you feeling about being here? I sensed you weren’t sure about coming to dinner with me.”

She considers the question for a second before answering. “Are you worried I’m going to suddenly freak out and bolt for the door?”

I laugh. “The thought has crossed my mind.”

She smiles. “I promise I won’t. But I am nervous. Okay, terrified might be a better word.”

I love that she’s forthright about it. She doesn’t make me guess at how she’s feeling and seeing as I’ve never been one to play games or read minds, it turns me on.

“Why is that?” I ask.

“I’m not really sure. Maybe because I can’t remember the last time I went on a date, or maybe because you and I have very different lives. Also, it feels a little shocking to be sitting here with you. You make me… nervous,” she admits.

“We’re going to take things slow,” I reassure her. “There’s so much I want to know about you. And maybe we’ll find we’re not as different as you think.”

Rylee meets my eyes and nods. It’s sexy and so is her response when she says, “Maybe so.”

Our appetizers arrive moments later. I ordered the tomato and bocconcini and Rylee ordered a garden salad. I pick up my fork and take a bite.

“How was your day?” she asks.

I pause mid-bite. I don’t remember the last time anyone has asked me that, with the exception of my mom. People are usually more interested in my schedule, or my lines, or what party I’ll be attending. Or what I can do for them.

“It was good,” I tell her. “I slept in later than I have in weeks. Went for a run. Memorized lines and did a quick radio interview for a news station in Australia. And that’s about it.”

“Not too bad,” she says, spearing a cherry tomato in her salad with her fork. “I slept in too. It was nice.”

“And what else?”

I pop a bite of tomato and cheese into my mouth while she answers. “I went for a walk with Abby, got my nails done and called my grandparents.”

This is the second time she’s talked about them, and it makes me wonder if her parents are in her life. Something tells me she doesn’t want to talk about it, so I leave it, wanting to enjoy this time together with her.

“How are they doing?”

Over wine and appetizers, Rylee tells me all about them. How they raised her and her two brothers from the time she was a teenager. She says that her grandmother knows every last bit of gossip coming out of Deer Lake and that the two of them have been happily married for 50 years. She tries her best to visit them on holidays and long weekends, she says, and I can tell from her voice that she’s very close to them.

We continue to talk about our families, our jobs, our likes and dislikes. I tell her about Parker getting married to his high school sweetheart after eight years apart. She tells me how much she loves the outdoors and about her passion for photography. The mood is flirty and fun, and I already find myself wishing this night would never end.

Our waiter sets our meals on the table in front of us. My veal piccata looks cooked to perfection and Rylee’s chicken looks good too. I spread my napkin across my lap and take my first bite.

“How is it?” she asks. “Mine is incredible.”

“Mine too. Here, you need to taste this.” I stab the veal with my fork and run it through the lemon and caper sauce, and without thinking twice, I reach over the table with my fork and offer it to her. Her eyes widen for a brief second, then she leans in and takes my fork in her mouth. Her lips run the length of it and my dick stirs in my pants. The mmm sound she makes next is enough to give me an erection the size of the Empire State Building.

Rylee swallows the tender meat then sips her wine. “So good,” she says. “How did you know to come here?”

“Kate from makeup was raving about it. Josh had told me about it too. He comes here whenever he’s in Vancouver,” I say, cutting into my veal. “I think they have his picture somewhere on the wall.”

“I’m sure they’ll also want yours up there after tonight.”

After dinner, Rylee and I ordered dessert, deciding to share the lemon cake and the tiramisu. As we sink our forks into the desserts and make small talk, the restaurant around us seems to have faded away. It feels like it’s just the two of us, like this is where we are meant to be.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” My fork hovers over the plate when I ask her.

She tilts her head to the side as she’s carefully choosing the right words. “I’m thinking I hope you don’t take the last bite,” she says with a grin. “I’m also thinking that I’m happy I said yes to tonight. It’s nice being here with you.”

“Really?” A smile spreads across my face. I want her to say more. I want to know every single thing that’s crossing her mind.

---