on the screen. She’d changed into a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black and gold hockey shirt. Her face was scrubbed clean with barely any makeup, maybe some stuff on her eyes. She wasn’t wearing her glasses.
She returned the phone and stood waiting.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded.
He gestured toward the door, but as she approached he asked, “Do you need your glasses?”
Her face registered surprise and she turned, ran to the bathroom, and returned wearing the large, red frames.
“Sorry,” she said, pushing them up her nose.
They walked silently to his truck, parked right outside the front door. Once inside, he turned the key and eased away from the curb.
“Are you a hockey fan?”
“I love hockey more than football, but I’m a fan of both.”
“I like that. Not a lot of women are sports fans.”
She grinned. “Maybe the ones you know aren’t. But anyone I know is.”
They were off to a nice start. Too soon to start asking questions that would erect those cautionary walls around her, so he made small talk about sports teams, the weather, and the songs on the radio. They arrived at a brick building with an orange roof and a matching neon sign declaring it as “Curly’s.”
He offered assistance after opening her door and for once, she took it. Her slender hand slid into his, her fingers wrapping between his like parts of a whole. Mini lightning bolts shot up his arm and jolted his heart. She stepped down from the passenger seat and he held her hand tight as they walked toward the screen door, briefly dismayed that the distance was so short. Country music drifted out from the open inner door.
“This place isn’t much inside, but the burgers are the best. You can order whatever you like, though. If you want to eat healthy, they serve good salads.”
She eyed him but remained silent. He was babbling like a child. There was no reason to be so nervous. She was just a woman and this was simply burgers and beers. But his palms were sweaty.
They selected a booth in the back and Cassidy surprised him by ordering a micro brew, a burger loaded, and onion rings. She fussed with the table service, refolded her napkin, and sipped her water while her eyes scrutinized the dining area.
“You’re on the watch again.”
She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “Just checking out the ambiance.”
Clay laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Their beers arrived and Clay raised his glass. Cassidy tipped hers to touch his.
“Thanks for helping me this afternoon. You did good work.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s my job, remember?”
He sipped a second time then placed his mug on the square cocktail napkin.
“So, why did you come with me tonight?”
She captured his gaze. “Why’d you ask?”
“You’re very good at answering a question with a question. It’s a skilled defense mechanism.”
“Am I?”
He grinned. “Touché.”
He waited for her to respond, his question left hanging in the air. She lifted her glass, sipped, then whispered, “Maybe I was hungry.”
The electric charge started in the arch of his foot, bolted up his legs, surged through his spine, and settled in his chest, causing his heart to race. Did she mean the double entendre? His body temperature spiked. “For burgers?”
Cassidy hadn’t released his gaze. “Wasn’t that the offer?”
The waitress arrived with a full tray of food and the spell was broken. His heart pounded so fiercely, he glanced down to assure himself it wasn’t apparent beneath his shirt. He watched Cassidy squirt ketchup onto her plate and squeeze mustard on the burger. She avoided looking at him, seemingly absorbed in her food.
Halfway through their meal, he was mesmerized. She understood sports, she recognized music, she quoted poetry, and she licked her fingers in a disturbingly suggestive way. He couldn’t stand up if his life depended on it, not without it looking like his jeans were a size too small.
He ordered another
She returned the phone and stood waiting.
“Ready to go?”
She nodded.
He gestured toward the door, but as she approached he asked, “Do you need your glasses?”
Her face registered surprise and she turned, ran to the bathroom, and returned wearing the large, red frames.
“Sorry,” she said, pushing them up her nose.
They walked silently to his truck, parked right outside the front door. Once inside, he turned the key and eased away from the curb.
“Are you a hockey fan?”
“I love hockey more than football, but I’m a fan of both.”
“I like that. Not a lot of women are sports fans.”
She grinned. “Maybe the ones you know aren’t. But anyone I know is.”
They were off to a nice start. Too soon to start asking questions that would erect those cautionary walls around her, so he made small talk about sports teams, the weather, and the songs on the radio. They arrived at a brick building with an orange roof and a matching neon sign declaring it as “Curly’s.”
He offered assistance after opening her door and for once, she took it. Her slender hand slid into his, her fingers wrapping between his like parts of a whole. Mini lightning bolts shot up his arm and jolted his heart. She stepped down from the passenger seat and he held her hand tight as they walked toward the screen door, briefly dismayed that the distance was so short. Country music drifted out from the open inner door.
“This place isn’t much inside, but the burgers are the best. You can order whatever you like, though. If you want to eat healthy, they serve good salads.”
She eyed him but remained silent. He was babbling like a child. There was no reason to be so nervous. She was just a woman and this was simply burgers and beers. But his palms were sweaty.
They selected a booth in the back and Cassidy surprised him by ordering a micro brew, a burger loaded, and onion rings. She fussed with the table service, refolded her napkin, and sipped her water while her eyes scrutinized the dining area.
“You’re on the watch again.”
She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. “Just checking out the ambiance.”
Clay laughed. “Good luck with that.”
Their beers arrived and Clay raised his glass. Cassidy tipped hers to touch his.
“Thanks for helping me this afternoon. You did good work.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s my job, remember?”
He sipped a second time then placed his mug on the square cocktail napkin.
“So, why did you come with me tonight?”
She captured his gaze. “Why’d you ask?”
“You’re very good at answering a question with a question. It’s a skilled defense mechanism.”
“Am I?”
He grinned. “Touché.”
He waited for her to respond, his question left hanging in the air. She lifted her glass, sipped, then whispered, “Maybe I was hungry.”
The electric charge started in the arch of his foot, bolted up his legs, surged through his spine, and settled in his chest, causing his heart to race. Did she mean the double entendre? His body temperature spiked. “For burgers?”
Cassidy hadn’t released his gaze. “Wasn’t that the offer?”
The waitress arrived with a full tray of food and the spell was broken. His heart pounded so fiercely, he glanced down to assure himself it wasn’t apparent beneath his shirt. He watched Cassidy squirt ketchup onto her plate and squeeze mustard on the burger. She avoided looking at him, seemingly absorbed in her food.
Halfway through their meal, he was mesmerized. She understood sports, she recognized music, she quoted poetry, and she licked her fingers in a disturbingly suggestive way. He couldn’t stand up if his life depended on it, not without it looking like his jeans were a size too small.
He ordered another
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