“You trust me, right?”
“Well, I trust that you’re not a secret sheriff serial killer.”
“Good to know,” he said with a grin.
He got out of the truck and moved around to her side, opening the door for her. “We don’t have to go far.”
She nodded and stepped out, figuring she might as well be game for whatever adventure he had planned. At least it was taking her mind off her father and his condition.
She silently congratulated herself for choosing a pair of comfortable wedge heels from Paige’s closet so she wasn’t worried about breaking an ankle on the trail.
Cole took a cooler out of the truck’s cargo bed and started up the path peeking out from the heavily wooded area.
They’d only walked about twenty-five feet when the forest opened into a picturesque meadow, complete with a view of the mountains and a rustic picnic table set up in the middle of the field.
She stepped into the clearing, then spun around in a slow circle, marveling at the quiet beauty around them. “Is there some manual they gave you when you moved here about hidden vistas in Crimson?”
He flashed a wide smile. “I talk to a lot of people in my line of work. I ask questions. Privacy is important to me, but I don’t want to miss out on how great this area is because of it. I’ll take the road or the picnic area less traveled when I can.”
“I’m overdressed.”
“You look perfect.”
“It looks like the picnic table is already set.”
He nodded, looking almost sheepish. “I came out earlier and got things ready.”
She followed him to the center of the meadow. A linen covered the picnic table, which was set for two. “I hope you’re not disappointed that we’re not at a restaurant in town. It seemed like you might get a bunch of questions about your dad. I thought you could use a break, and we’re closer to the hospital here than if we’d gone downtown.”
“So you cooked?”
He placed the cooler on one of the long benches. “Not exactly,” he told her, opening the lid. “But I’m great at ordering carryout.” He took out several cardboard food containers. “There’s a new Italian place on the way to Aspen. Best manicotti ever.”
He placed the boxes on the table, then pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“You went to so much trouble,” she murmured.
“We can hit the town next time if you want,” he told her with a boyish smile that melted her heart.
“This is perfect.” She leaned in to brush a kiss across his jaw. What she wanted to say was that Cole was perfect. Perfect for her. But she was afraid to reveal too much, terrified at how serious her feelings for him had become in such a short time.
He uncorked the wine and she held the glasses while he poured. They toasted to Declan’s health and new beginnings, then Cole opened the containers and served them both crisp green salad and a scrumptious-smelling portion of pasta.
“It’s amazing,” she said after taking a bite, the combination of tangy sauce and rich cheese making her want to moan with pleasure.
“What’s your favorite restaurant in Chicago?” he asked.
She smiled. “The shawarma food truck that parks around the corner from my condo. I’m not much of a cook either. I eat there at least twice a week.”
“Do you miss the city?”
She forked up another bite but paused before putting it in her mouth. “Not really, which is strange. Everything in my regular life was so structured. I thought that’s how I liked it, but now I see that it was also suffocating me.”
“Structure isn’t a bad thing,” he said, taking a sip of wine.
She smiled. “So says the lawman with the military background. I wish I’d questioned things more when I was growing up, and even as an adult. My mom made it clear that I should be grateful for the life we had, and I was. But I didn’t choose it. I never learned to figure out what I wanted. You’d think with the Crenshaw blood in me I would have rebelled or gone off the rails or something. Instead I was just a dutiful little sheep following the flock.”
She put down her fork and picked up the wineglass. “I’m mostly disappointed in myself at this point for letting other people decide how I should live my life.”
