“Hi,” I say and step back so he can come inside, ignoring the knowing smile on his lips.
“Hello, beautiful,” he replies and passes me a bouquet of pink roses. “These are for you.”
“Oh, how nice.” I bury my nose in them and smile up at him. “Thank you. I’ll put them in water real quick before we go.”
He nods and follows me into the kitchen. “Your home is nice.”
“Thanks.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “I’m not here much, so it doesn’t get very dirty. I don’t know why I told you that.” I fill a vase with cold water and quickly clip the ends of the blooms before fussing over them.
“Because it’s the truth,” he says and brushes my hair over my shoulder. “How are you today?”
“Nervous,” I admit. “That’s the truth, too.”
“No need to be nervous, Hannah. It’s just dinner.”
I nod and take a deep breath, then smile up at him. “Okay. I’m ready.”
He laughs and takes my hand, then surprises me by raising it to his lips and gently kissing my knuckles. “It’s going to be fun.”
“I know.”
He watches me for a moment, then, still holding my hand, leads me through the house to the front door. My arm is on fire from the electricity running through it. Jesus, if just the touch of his hand causes this kind of reaction, I can only imagine what would happen if we were naked.
Not that we will be naked tonight.
I grab my jacket and handbag, lock up behind us, and follow him to his truck.
Once we’re settled and headed down the street, he smiles over at me. “I thought we’d head over to Ciao for some Italian, if that works for you.”
“That’s my favorite place.”
He grins. “Mine, too.”
It doesn’t take long to get anywhere in Cunningham Falls, and before long we’re seated at a table in the back corner. When the waitress arrives, she writes her name in crayon on the white paper covering the table.
“I’m Natasha,” she says with a smile, “and I’ll be helping you out tonight. Can I offer you some wine, or something else to drink?”
“Just a Coke for me,” I reply.
“I’ll have the same,” Brad says. Natasha nods and bustles away and I turn my attention to the menu, even though I already know what I want.
I never change what I order here.
“What looks good?” I ask Brad and glance up to find him looking at me with heated green eyes.
“You look amazing.”
“I meant the menu.”
“I know what you meant,” he says and tilts his head to the side, watching me. “Let’s get this out of the way right now. What is it, exactly, that makes you nervous about me?”
I blink as Natasha places our Cokes in front of us.
“Are you ready to order?”
“We need a minute,” Brad says without looking away from me. He reaches out and takes my hand, and the same electricity hits me again, and I bite my lip. “Let’s talk about this, Hannah.”
“I’m not sure what to say.”
“Is it the cop thing? My height? Have you heard something through the rumor mill?”
“What would I have heard?”
“Who knows?” He chuckles. “It’s a small town.”
I shrug. “Honestly, it’s not you that makes me nervous. I’m not intimidated by you in the least.”
“Excellent.”
“I guess it’s just first date jitters.”
“Okay, we can work with that.” He winks at me and nods at Natasha as she approaches the table. “I think we can order now.”
“I’ll have the bow-tie pasta with alfredo sauce, chicken, artichoke hearts, and mushrooms.” I pass her the menu and smile at Brad.
“I’ll have the lasagna,” he says. Someone waves at him from across the room and he nods politely.
“It must be hard for you to be out in public when it’s your day off.”
He tilts his head in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, I’m always on call. Babies don’t know what office hours are. But you’re the chief of police. People know you, and I’m sure they feel like they can approach you to ask questions, complain, what have you, no matter if you’re on duty or not.”
“Sometimes,” he says with a nod. “I finally had to have my personal cell number changed because I kept getting calls. I have an official cell because I have to be able to be reached any time of day. But I don’t need the townspeople to be able to call me whenever they see fit. I am a public servant, but I finally had to set some boundaries.”
“Good for you,” I reply. “Setting boundaries isn’t easy.”
“It is when an old lady calls you at two in the morning to complain about how bright her street light is. She doesn’t like closing her blinds at night.”
“Oh my.”
“She wanted me to come out and unscrew the bulb in it so she could get some sleep.”