“Everything,” he said with a confidence that suggested he’d dined here many times before.
“The pork chop sounds wonderful.”
“It is. In fact, I think I’ll get that.” He set his menu on the table.
“Me too.” Skylar watched Rawley glance around the restaurant’s warm, brick-walled interior, then caught Marco’s eye with a discreet wave.
“Ready, sir?” Marco poised his pen over a small notepad.
“Yes.” Rawley ordered for both of them, his deep voice carrying just enough authority to be attractive without seeming controlling, then lifted his glass and took a sip.
When their steaming plates arrived, artfully arranged with colorful vegetables, they talked about everything from childhoodmemories to future dreams. Rawley showed genuine interest when he asked about her romance novels, leaning forward to catch every word. She loved talking about her heroines but didn’t want to monopolize the evening, so she shifted the conversation to him with a question about his job.
“So,” she asked, “you said your grandfather was a livestock agent?”
Rawley picked up his knife and fork then cut into the pork chop. The knife slid through the meat with a soft hiss. “Great-grandfather, actually. His father was one, so he did it too. My grandfather decided it wasn’t his calling and built the ranch instead.”
She leaned back, studying him under the restaurant’s amber light. “You must be so busy. How do you manage everything?”
He shrugged, spearing a succulent bite. “I’ve got good men running things at the ranch. I’ll work the ranch on weekends, unless I get called in for something urgent.”
Skylar’s eyes flicked toward the darkened corridor near the booth. “It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, you deal with some bad people?”
He paused, the fork halfway to his mouth, then nodded. “Every day.”
“How do you handle that?”
Rawley set down his utensils with a gentle clink against the plate and shrugged. “Part of the job. Keeps the blood pumping. Honestly, I love it.”
“It certainly sounds that way.” She smiled. “Do you have any siblings?”
“I’ve got a younger sister. She just got married in May to a great guy.” He carved another piece of pork, the crust crackling under his blade.
“I’m an only child,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Ryan’s the sister I never had. Where do your parents live?”
“Clifton,” he replied easily. “They’ve got a place just outside of town.”
“Do they still work?”
“My dad does. Mom’s retired, she was a sixth-grade schoolteacher.”
Skylar shook her head in admiration. “That must be rewarding.”
Rawley grinned. “She loved it. My father is a District Court judge.”
“A federal judge? Ever had to stand before him in court?”
He grinned. “Yes. I’ve also testified a few times on other cases, as a witness.” He glanced down the hallway where a waiter stood glancing around the restaurant, then back at her. “Funny thing is, we work in the same building. Just the other day I ran into him in the elevator.”
Skylar chuckled. “Small world.”
They fell into easy conversation; she told stories about Ryan’s latest antics; he recounted tales of close calls on the ranch. Plates whisked away, stemware shimmered as glasses were refilled, and the server finally laid a leather-bound check holder on the table.
“Thank you,” Rawley said, slipping his wallet free and placing a credit card inside the glossy slot before returning it to the attendant.
