I’ve pulled out all the stops tonight. I plan to treat Betsy how every man should have been treating her all along. HowIshould have been treating her from the get-go instead of teasing her about her piercings or black clothing. I should never have accepted a sex-only relationship when she’s worth all that and much more. She’s funny, smart, hardworking, and a big ol’ softy underneath that scowl. I want to know every single detail about her, the good, the bad, and the hilarious. She’s someone I want to get to know over the rest of my lifetime.
I hold out my elbow and she takes it. Nana steps up and takes her flowers, promising to put them in water and bring them to her room for when she gets back. I hold the passenger side door open for her and help her climb up into my truck. I reach in and help her with the seat belt, even though she huffs like the help is irritating and unnecessary.
We keep up steady chatter all the way to the restaurant in the Square. My nerves ease a bit. She seems more relaxed, more engaged in conversation with me than earlier in the week. Maybe I’ve overworked her. She’s been working as feverishly as me and it’s not even her family’s boutique.
When we pull into The Velvet Throne parking lot, Betsy’s jaw drops. “You got a tablehere?”
I shoot her my winningest smile. “Only the best for you, Betsy Mae.”
Her mouth snaps shut and she blinks like an owl. Apparently, I’ve made her speechless. I park the truck and hustle around the hood to open her door. She doesn’t try to get out without me, which is an improvement over when she first came here and looked at me bizarrely for opening her doors. Her hand is soft and cool in mine. I bend down to kiss the back of her hand, noticing her nails are painted a soft yellow instead of dark purple or black.
She turns, expecting to walk into the restaurant, and in this heat, who can blame her? But I keep my feet planted, waiting until she turns back and looks up at me with a question in her eyes. My thumb strokes the back of her hand, my brain whirling with something I hadn’t thought of before.
“Betsy, I hope you know I don’t ever want you to change for me.”
She blinks again, then gives a soft shake to her head. “Okay.”
“No, I’m serious. I know I teased you when you first got here, but I like you just the way you are. I can’t imagine you expected to be wearing a yellow dress, or heels, or painting your nails anything other than shades of black, but here you are, looking like a Southern debutante. I just…” I pause, searching for the words that match how I feel. “I know you feel like a misfit in life, but I want you to know that I like you just how you are. The clothes you wear are just the outer package. I’m attracted to the girl underneath.”
“So…you like me naked?”
I don’t give her the laugh she wants to break the tension. I just smile patiently and try to give her what the other men in her life couldn’t or wouldn’t.
“I like you naked, yes. I like you clothed. I like you angry. I like you grumpy and I like you smiling ear to ear like you were when we won that award. I justlikeyou, Betsy Mae.”
She stares into my eyes like she’s trying to figure me out. Then she squeezes my hand. “Okay.”
I nod. “Okay.”
We walk into the restaurant, the lighting dim and romantic, the tables spaced apart for privacy. Candlelight dances on each table. The wallpaper is dark and moody, like a speakeasy from yesteryear. The smell of sizzling food makes my belly rumble with hunger. We have a seat at a table in the corner of therestaurant with a view of the bar and a large palm in a pot off to the side to offer a screen.
The server comes right over and takes our drink order: a bottle of champagne for the table. He scurries away and now it’s just Betsy and me.
“Are we celebrating?” she asks, seeming nervous.
“I think we should. We’ve accomplished so much with the boutique.” I swallow hard and gather my courage. I lean over the table and lower my voice. “And I’d like to celebrate you and me.”
Betsy’s pretty blue eyes narrow. “That sounds suspiciously like an ‘us.’”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am. I think we’re very much an us. I didn’t expect this when you flew through my front door.” Betsy lets out a choked laugh. “But either way, it’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” she asks on a whisper.
I meet her gaze and don’t drop it. Here goes nothing.
“I fell in love with you.”
Her eyes go wide.
I forge ahead because now it’s out there. “I have, Betsy. I didn’t think I’d be finding love at forty, but here I am. I love you, plain and simple. I love your attitude, your sense of humor, your heart. I could go on and on. You’ve charmed me six ways toSundee, honey.”
“Silas,” she breathes, not dropping my gaze, but not smiling either.
“I know that’s not what we set out to do, but I want to be honest about how I feel about you. And I know you might be scared. Your last relationship didn’t end well, but I’ve promised you I’d never do that to you and I’ll continue to prove it to you.”
Our server comes back over and pops open the champagne with a flourish and pours two glasses. As he walks away, Betsy grabs her glass and downs it in three gulps.
Well, fuck. That can’t be good. The silence is making my skin itch.
