I take in his dark trousers and dinner jacket as butterflies flutter in my chest. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Stepping away from the wall, he offers his arm. “Are you ready for our first official public date?”
Pinching back the smile that says I’m living someone else’s life, I reply with a simple, “I am.”
And just like that, I am ready for dinner.
I am no longer a diner owner who works every day and doesn’t have a life of her own.
I am smitten by this whole place, including Bill’s sweet smile.
My heart pounds hard in my chest as I attach myself to Bill's side, and we step together on our first official date.
twenty
Bill
Ruth grips my arm, which isn’t a huge gesture. It’s seriously just her hand resting by the crook of my elbow, but it sends my heart into a tailspin. She’s allowing herself to be seen in publicwith me. Even though she knows no one in this city, it feels like growth.
I wrestled with the dinner reservations for longer than I care to admit. I want to take her to all the nicest places, but my heart warns me to start with something simple and somewhere she can relax. So, I went with a small family-owned bistro. We don’t need the driver, as it’s on the other side of this street. Even though it’s colder than dirt outside, the soft glowing front window reminds us the finish line is only a few steps away, and we scurry across the sidewalk, not giving a second glance at the chalkboard menu outside.
“Hawaii is sounding even better.” She lets out a breath as she scans the foyer. Friday-night laughter spirals around us at all the filled tables. “But this is really cute.”
A tall waiter with a dark mustache and a pristine white apron walks up to us and smirks. “Ah! Les amoureux!”
My heart flutters as I witness Ruth’s cheeks fire red, and she holds up a palm. “Oh, we’re not—”
“Maybe not yet,” he switches to English. “You’ve never been to Quebec before.”
The waiter winks, and I chuckle just to break the tension. Ruth gives me the side-eye as her cheeks continue to flush. It’s cute how flustered she gets.
The waiter leads us to a small table, perfect for two, by a window in the back. A center candle flickers as if it’s on its last few minutes. The muted lighting catches copper flecks in Ruth's eyes I’ve never noticed before, and I can’t help but stare as she removes her coat.
I swear that pink coat has ruined me.
Who knew I, Bill Baker, former NHL star and billionaire, could become obsessed with pink. It’s the softest color, making me want to protect her from everything…and maybe I want to snuggle a little too.
“My name is Franco,” the waiter says as he stands with perfect posture by our table. “You don’t need menus tonight,” he scoffs. “I know all the chef’s specials. I understand completely what you need.”
Ruth’s eyes pop wide as her gaze cuts from Franco to me.
I smirk at her and then say, “It sounds like we are in good hands, Franco. Let’s see what you have.”
He nods and leaves. Ruth’s eyes are still as large as saucers when I return my gaze back to her. “If you don’t like it,” I say, “you can order whatever you want, but it sounds like an adventure to let him decide. Plus, I know you aren’t picky.”
“I agree.” She beams back at me. “It’s totally an adventure, and I’m excited to see what he brings. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten out anywhere that wasn’t my diner.”
“See.” I gesture forward. “You needed to get away from all of that and let yourself experience things.”
Franco returns with a bottle of wine. The label is in French, and one I’ve never seen before. He pours us each a glass and sets the bottle on the table. Ruth looks at me and then the wine glass. “You first. I’m not a big wine person.”
Tilting the glass up slowly, I take a sip and taste something crisp and light, and I nod. “You’ll like it. It’s not too dry.”
She lifts her glass as Franco returns with several plates filled with appetizers: cheeses, sliced bread, figs, and even some prosciutto. Ruth’s eyes pop wide again, and she whispers, “How did he know I prefer snacks?”
Chuckling, I serve her a piece of bread before I give myself one. I wait for her to take the first bite, as she’s never shy about food. The garlic butter on the bread makes her eyelids drift down, and she hums her approval. “This is so good.”
“I agree. The food is amazing, and the environment is perfect,” I say, but I don’t have an appetite. It’s strange, as I hardly ate anything all day. Normally I’d be ravenous, especially for foodlike this, but I’m sort of numb. All I want to do is watch Ruth experience everything. It’s like I’m afraid I will miss something if I look away to eat.
