Zack filled the vase with water, then set the flowers inside with a faintly pleased smile. “Perfect.”
I wanted to tell him he was the one who looked perfect, but I bit it back, content to watch the soft look on his face as he adjusted the bouquet.
When he finally turned back to me, his smile shifted. It was warm. “You look nice, by the way.”
That caught me off guard. “Yeah?”
He nodded, giving me a slow once-over that sent heat straight to my ears.
“Yeah. You clean up well,” Zack commented.
I couldn’t help grinning. “Guess asking Chris and Mom for advice paid off after all.”
Zack’s brows shot up, amused. “Oh, you brought in the big guns?”
“Yeah. Probably should’ve known better.”
He laughed. “Remind me to thank them later.”
“For there record you also look great,” I said.
“Guess we’re both off to a good start then,” Zack said.
He walked past to grab his jacket from the rack.
We stepped out into the hallway together, shoulders brushing again, and I couldn’t help but think the night was already heading in the right direction.
The nervous energy that had tied itself in knots in my stomach earlier was still there but now it felt different. Less about fear, more about possibility.
9
MARK
La Fiora restaurant was tucked between an antique shop and an old bakery that always seemed to smell like sugar and cinnamon.
Inside, the scent of basil and roasted garlic hit me like a promise. Zack’s eyes widened as we stepped in.
“You actually got us in here?” he said, glancing around the crowded dining room. Every table was full.
Zack continued, “I’ve been trying to get a reservation for months. How’d you pull this off?”
I smirked, pretending to adjust the collar of my jacket. “Bribed one of the waiters.”
He turned to me, mock horror written all over his face. “You did not.”
“Okay, not really,” I said, trying not to laugh. “My brother Dane works here. I might’ve traded him a week of chores when he visits next.”
Zack chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not bribery. That’s sibling blackmail.”
“Effective, though,” I said, holding out his chair for him. “And you can’t argue with results.”
He settled into the seat, his eyes still warm with amusement. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed.”
“Good,” I said, sliding into my own seat across from him. “That’s kind of the point.”
The waiter came by with menus, but I barely looked at mine. Zack did, though. He scanned the page, lips pursed in concentration.
I found myself watching him instead. I imagined tracing the soft furrow between his brows, the curve of his mouth as he murmured something about truffle oil.
