Carlos grins. "Getting too big for their britches. Great ride the other day."
"Thank you." Wyatt slips him some cash and says, "Take care of my baby."
I stifle a laugh. I forgot how proud he was of the truck he bought when he won his first rodeo.
He holds the door open for me. "After you."
I step into the warmth. Christmas lights glow around the restaurant, and memories hit me hard.
Us laughing until we cried.
His hand on my thigh under the table.
That night, we licked sugar off each other's fingers and laughed over stolen sips of wine, pretending we weren't already burning at the edges.
"Welcome," the hostess chirps, tearing me out of my thoughts. She leads us to a private corner booth. Red and green candles flicker on the tabletop. The scent of truffle oil and roasted peaches lingers in the air. A plate of chocolate-covered strawberries waits for us.
"You remembered," I murmur.
His eyes darken. "I remember everything."
An electric tension simmers between us, fiercer than a lightning strike. One spark and I'll lose my resolve not to burn with it, so I try not to look at Wyatt, scared he'll see I'm losing my ability to keep our boundaries.
A petite woman with gray-streaked auburn curls approaches. Her apron hasMargoembroidered on it and her smile is wide and warm. She's aged but not too much.
"Evening, y'all. Happy New Year's Eve. Haven't seen you two lovebirds in years," she says, placing two leather-bound menus on the table.
I blink hard, feeling a rush of emotions.
Wyatt grins, sliding an arm along the back of the booth behind me. "Surprised you remember us."
Margo beams. "Of course I do. It's rare we get such a gorgeous couple in this booth without a reservation made months ago."
"We got lucky," I murmur.
"Mm-hmm." Her eyes twinkle like she knows something I don't. "Can I get you two started with something to drink?"
Wyatt glances at me, then at the wine list.
I raise an eyebrow. "You don't even like wine."
He shrugs one shoulder, cool as sin. "I'll take the pinot noir. Whatever bottle you recommend."
Margo laughs. "If memory serves me right, the last time you two were here, you got caught giving her sips of your wine when she was underage."
Wyatt leans in just enough to brush my arm. "You do have a great memory. And this is Willow's favorite place, and she's legal now. So please bring your best bottle."
My face warms.
Margo practically swoons. "Well, I'll be right back with two glasses and a bottle. It's silky, not too dry, and pairs perfectly with our signature short ribs, in case you were wondering."
"That's exactly what I was gonna order," Wyatt says, handing her back the menu without looking at it.
I smirk. "Since when do you eat short ribs without barbecue sauce?"
He nudges me gently with his knee under the table. "Since you taught me what bourbon glaze reduction means."
Margo grins. "That comes with roasted root vegetables and herbed polenta, but if y'all want to mix and match, we've got creamed kale, maple carrots, smoked gouda mashed, or truffle mac."
