Dirty Sweet Cowboy

I watch her walk around, enchanted by her swaying hips with every step. I’ve got the best Italian restaurant in the city in my contacts, and the chef owes me a favor. I like collecting favors .

“All right, one Italian feast… should be here in about thirty minutes. Happy ?”

She wrinkles her nose adorably. “Ecstatic,” she chirps .

“How about if I make a fire?” I offer. “Normally we could eat out on the rooftop deck, but it’s kind of chilly tonight. Lots of fog .”

She agrees, folding herself onto the end of the long, leather sofa in front of the fire. In moments I have a roaring, crackling fire in the stone pit. The light dances over the walls and across her pretty, pert features .

“So, how are you enjoying your new job?” I ask her as I sit on the opposite end of the sofa, carefully leaving as much space between us as possible .

“Oh!” she exclaims as though surprised I asked. “Actually, I love it. I really do. It was an excellent idea .”

I’m happy to see her smiling, really smiling. Something about it transforms her face. She must be really enjoying the job, because she’s even prettier than normal .

“Do you think it’s something you will want to continue doing? If you don’t think it’s a good fit, maybe we can find you something else .”

“No, it’s perfect,” she insists. “I like everyone there, and I like the work. And I’m making enough money that I can find my own place. Probably something downtown, so I can walk .”

“Seriously? You know, I own several buildings close to there. I could probably arrange for you to — ”

She holds up her hand to stop me .

“I don’t need your help,” she says quickly but not unkindly. “I’ve got it all under control .”

“I’m sure you do,” I say in a rush, hoping that she’s not offended that I’m trying to help her. “I’m just saying that I could expedite it. I mean, if you want me to .”

She shrugs noncommittally .

“I mean, if you need anything, just ask .”

We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I’m grateful when the elevator doors open again suddenly. Perry arrives, carrying bags of foil containers .

“Wow, that was fast,” she breathes. “I’m famished. Just in time .”

In a few moments, Perry arranges the spread of delicacies in front of us. Ava’s eyes glitter with delight as she surveys the handmade raviolis, chicken scallopini, and beef marsala. She plucks a sauce-covered mushroom from the plate and pops it in her mouth, moaning dramatically .

“Oh my God, this is delicious!” she exclaims .

I don’t say anything. Watching her enjoy her food is a pleasure as always. I’m glad I could do something that made her happy. I get the feeling I already have a lot to make up for .

While we are eating, I realize I have thought about her nonstop for the past week. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen her, even though it’s been less than a month. I’m not sure what to tell her. That I can’t get her out of my mind? I don’t even know what that means. I’m afraid to disappoint her again. And I’m afraid to hear her say those words that mean she’s walking away again .

When we’re done eating, I head back to the kitchen to get the crème brûlée from the counter, dotting the candied surface with raspberries. On my way back to her, I take the silver box off the table and hide it in my pocket .

“Crème brûlée! My favorite !”

I sit closer to her, and she doesn’t seem to mind. Our knees brush against each other as she taps the caramelized sugar with the edge of her spoon, sighing with pleasure .

“I’m really glad you came over tonight,” I confess .

She winks at me. “If I’d known there was crème brûlée, I would’ve walked. Happily. Through snow, even .”

“Let’s call it an early birthday dinner,” I suggest .

She smiles at me suddenly. “You remember that? My birthday ?”

I love the way she glows when she smiles. “Of course I remember your birthday,” I insist, though I actually had to look it up. “I wanted to get you something special .”