Yet, he was insistent, silently waiting for me to take his arm. I peeked upward to look him in the eye, and before I knew it, my arm was easing around his.
Steel. The man has to be made out of steel.
Of course, it was a ridiculous thought. Chael was just another human being.
I caught a couple of looks from a few of the patients in the lobby. Ms. Dalton, a middle-aged woman and one of our regulars, gave me a thumbs-up. I shook my head and wanted to tell her that this wasn’t at all what it appeared to be.
A man like Chael would never want a woman like me. I wasn’t the arm candy men who looked like him went for.
But I didn’t stop to tell her that because we’d reached the door. Chael held the door open for me. I passed through and welcomed the afternoon sun on my face. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and it was early spring which meant the weather hadn’t reached scorching by early afternoon.
“It pleases me to know you enjoy the tacos here. I took a chance reserving our table before inviting you.”
Pleases me.
Something about the way he said that. As if he enjoyed making me happy or something. Another ludicrous thought on my part.
“Yeah, well, I mean, who doesn’t love tacos?” I gestured almost wildly with my free hand. “Tacos make the world go round. Tacos and chocolate,” I added.
He raised one of those dark eyebrows.
“Or so I heard.”
His lips twitched and then stilled. He held the restaurant door open for me, and I welcomed the mariachi music and the smell of corn tortillas, salsa, and guacamole that washed over me. My stomach growled in anticipation.
Chael peered down at me as if he heard it.
Dear God, please don’t let him have heard that.
“Our table is over here.” He nodded in the direction of the back corner of the restaurant. “Where it’s easier to hear one another.”
I nodded. That made perfect sense. It wasn’t like he went out of his way not to be seen in public with me.
Our hostess smiled politely at me while her eyes lingered on Chael. She was pretty, and I assumed Chael would return the favor, but when I glanced his way from across the wooden table, his full attention was on me.
I squirmed in my chair and stared downward as I unwrapped the cloth napkin and placed it in my lap.
“I assume you would recommend the tacos?”
I shook off the shiver that ran down my spine at the deep timbre of his voice. He had the type of voice that was perfect for doing audio for all of those romance books I loved to read or listen to.
“Yes,” I finally shook the word loose from my mouth. “Tacos. Get those.”
His forehead creased, and I experienced one of those flip-flop sensations in my belly to let me know that I was embarrassing myself.
I examined the laminated, colorful menu to gather my thoughts.
He’s just a man. I told myself.
I rolled my shoulders and refocused on the purpose of this meeting—the nursing home. The residents at Creekview were experiencing something that no one was paying attention to.
The waitress stopped at our table, dropping off fresh glasses of water. Thankfully, we didn’t take extra time. I ordered shrimp tacos while Chael got beef tacos.
When she left, he planted his elbows on the table and leaned in. It was a slight movement, but given his size, it felt huge, and like in doing so, he somehow cut off my senses from detecting anyone else in the room. Even the music seemed as if it lowered, just so that we could focus on the two of us.
No. Not the two of us. The situation at the nursing home.
“We didn’t get a chance to talk about your concerns the other day before you ran out.”
