She laughs, bright and lyrical.
I listen raptly as she explains the anatomy and the placement of the injury. It’s more interesting than I thought it would be, and she really lights up when she talks about her work. It’s actually really sexy to see just how smart she is.
We pull into the parking lot just as she finishes up her explanation of why the rest period after surgery is so important, and she chuckles softly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to gab your ear off with work.”
“Don’t be,” I tell her as I park. “I like listening to you talk. It’s interesting.”
We walk up to the restaurant side by side, and I feel giddy, genuinely excited for the first time in ages. I didn’t expect to enjoy spending time with Katie so much, but she’s really easy to get along with.
I hold the door open for her and step inside after her. The whole restaurant smells like polished oak, steaming garlic, and fresh pepper, warm yellow lights scattered on the brick walls.
“I have a reservation for Riggs,” I say to the hostess, keeping my hands in my pockets to stop myself from wrapping my arm around Katie’s waist
“Of course,” she says brightly. “Right this way.”
Katie stays a few steps behind me as we follow the hostess to our table, but she lets me pull her chair out for her. She glances around nervously before sitting down, an awkward smile on her face. It’s a big change from the chatterbox she was on the way here.
She’s gone almost completely silent.
Did she see someone she’s trying to avoid? An ex? A flare of unexpected jealousy shoots through me at the thought.
I take my seat across from her while she buries her nose in the menu. A few people are looking our way, some that I vaguely recognize. I can’t put names to any of the faces, but there are probably a few people we went to school with here.
“Are you all right?” I ask quietly.
Katie’s head snaps up, her eyes just a hair too wide to be relaxed. She’s obviously trying to convince me that she’s fine, purposefully relaxing her shoulders and smiling widely at me, but I can see anxiety fluttering in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says, very unconvincingly. Yeah, okay. Like I’ve never heard a woman say she’s fine when she’s clearly not. “How do you feel about wine?”
Maybe she’s just nervous.
“Wine sounds great.”
Our waiter stops by only moments later, and I order a bottle of malbec to share. I don’t know her taste in wine, but it should be a good choice. We make small talk about the menu as we wait for the wine, pointing out different things that look good.
Katie looks relieved enough to faint when the waiter brings the wine by, and she pours herself an overfull glass and starts sipping at it immediately. By the time I pour my own glass, she’s already halfway through hers.
We look over the menu as she drains her first glass and pours herself another. She’s not getting any less tense, but at least she’s talking more again. We decide on different things that we both want to try and agree to split them. I place our order when our waiter stops by again, and Katie polishes off her second glass as he leaves.
“Hey, are you sure?—”
“Is it just me, or are people looking at us?” she asks, a nervous lilt to her voice.
I blink at her in surprise, taking in the way her eyes are glued firmly to her glass as she pours herself more wine. A few people are tossing glances our way a bit too often to be accidental, but nobody’s being obvious about it.
“Don’t worry if they are. It doesn’t matter.” I shrug, putting on a nonchalant air to soothe her nerves. “We’re just two friends having dinner together. If people want to stare, let them.”
“You’re totally right. Sorry, people don’t usually stare when I’m out,” she says with a laugh.
It’s good to see her smile again.
“It’s okay,” I say, smiling back. “I just want you to have a good time.”
That’s really it. Usually, when I take someone out, I’m trying to figure out the quickest route back to my place. With Katie, though, I’m surprised by how much I’m actually enjoying just hanging out.
“So, tell me about the ranch,” Katie says. “I hear you’ve been spearheading all the legal stuff.”
