“Hi.” Her voice comes out a little breathless, and I catch the flutter of her pulse at her throat.
“Hi yourself.” I lean against the doorframe, letting myself look. Really look. Take my time with it. “You’re stunning.”
Pink creeps up her cheeks, and her scent goes softer—more lavender, less of that citrus edge she gets when she’s stressed. “You clean up pretty well too.”
“I try.” I offer my hand. “Ready?”
She grabs a long wool coat from the hook by the door—charcoal gray, fitted—and slips it on over the dress. Even bundled up for February, she’s gorgeous.
She takes my hand. Her fingers are cool against mine, and I have to stop myself from pulling her closer, wrapping her up, warming her properly. There’s time for that. Tonight is about showing her what this could be—not just heat and biology, but something real.
“Where are we going?” she asks as I lead her down to my truck.
“Pine Valley. Little Italian place called Bella Notte.”
“I’ve heard of it.” She glances at me as I open the passenger door for her. “Supposed to be romantic.”
“That’s the idea.” I wait until she’s settled, then close the door and round to the driver’s side. When I slide in beside her, her scent wraps around me—lavender and citrus with that sweet undertone that’s been stuck in my head since the cabin.
I grip the steering wheel and pull onto the road.
The driveto Pine Valley winds through the mountains, snow-dusted pines lining both sides of the road. The sun is setting, painting everything gold and pink, and Tessa watches the scenery like she’s never seen it before.
“I forget how beautiful it is out here,” she says. “I’m always so busy, I never take time to just... look.”
“That’s what tonight’s for. No spreadsheets. No clipboard. Just dinner and conversation.”
She laughs, and I want to bottle that sound. “I don’t know if I remember how to do that.”
“Lucky for you, I’m an expert. Comes with the bartender territory.”
“Is that what you’re doing right now? Tending bar?”
“Nah.” I glance over, catch her watching me with those sharp eyes. “This is different. You’re not a customer, Tessa. You’re the woman I’ve been thinking about since you walked into my bar and color-coded my napkin holders.”
“I didn’t color-code your—” She stops. “Okay, I might have suggested a system.”
“You reorganized my entire bar in forty-five minutes while waiting for a town council meeting to start.”
“It needed reorganizing.”
“It was perfect chaos and I loved it.” I grin at her. “But I loved watching you more. The way you couldn’t help yourself. The way you had to fix things, make them better, even when nobody asked.”
She’s quiet for a second. “You noticed that?”
“I notice everything about you.” I reach over, find her hand in her lap, and lace our fingers together. Her pulse jumps against my palm. “I noticed you take your coffee black but you’ll add cream if someone makes it for you. I noticed you tap your pen when you’re stressed and bite your lip when you’re working through a problem.”
She’s staring at me now. I can feel it.
“I noticed you wear that gray sweater when you need comfort—the one with the hole in the sleeve you think nobody can see.”
“Milo...”
“I’m not saying this to freak you out.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m saying it because you should know. Someone’s been paying attention, Tessa. Someone sees you—not just the event planner or the organizer or the woman who holds everything together. You.”
When she speaks, her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it.
“No one’s ever... I mean, I’ve dated. But no one’s ever noticed things like that before.”
