She gave him a rueful smile. “I doubt it.”
He moved his tea glass aside and leaned farther across the table. “Tell me. Am I your most challenging patient to date?”
“You’re certainly in the running.”
He snickered. “Good. I don’t want to be mediocre.” He grinned, and she smiled back, but with seriousness, he said, “Thanks for agreeing to seeing me. As hard as it was to talk so openly about all that, I guess I did need to air some things.”
“I hope I helped.”
“Actually,” he said, speaking low, “you’ve made my situation a lot more complicated.”
“In what way?”
He gave her a slow once-over, his gaze lighting on her lips, in the vicinity of her breasts, and, when his eyes reconnected with hers, he said, “I think you know.”
She could withstand his laser-blue stare only so long before lowering her head. She wasn’t aware that the waitress had returned until she said, “Y’all had time to consider?”
Dylan hastily replied, “Oh, we’re not eating.”
Just as Mitch said, “What would you like?”
The waitress harrumphed. “Wasn’t referring to the menu choices.” Looking back and forth between them, she asked, “Which is it, awkward first date or a breakup?”
“Awkward first date,” Mitch said.
“It’s not a date,” Dylan stressed.
Mitch said to the waitress, “We’re only here because she didn’t want to be alone with me.”
“How come?”
“I can’t figure it.” He made a show of scratching his head. “I’m devilishly handsome. I have a good personality, and I’m a stickler for dental hygiene. I keep myself fit.” He patted his abs. “Why do you think?”
The waitress said, “’Cause you’re a smart-ass.”
He laughed, then the waitress laughed, then Dylan couldn’t help herself. She joined in. But she insisted that they were leaving. They settled with the waitress by each of them giving her a ten for renting them the table. As Mitch handed her his share, he asked why the logo crawfish was blue instead of red.
“I’ve always wondered that myself but never took the trouble to ask.” She looked at Dylan and grinned. “He might be worth a second date.”
Outside, the air was soft and humid, but there was a breeze light enough to be comfortable, yet strong enough to discourage mosquitoes. A half moon was rising. Venus shone brightly. As they walked side by side toward their cars, Mitch reached for her hand.
She tried to take it back. “What are you doing?”
“Just seems like a time to hold hands.”
“You and I can’t hold hands.”
“Okay.” He let go of her hand, then hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her beneath the eaves of the building. “How about this?”
He drew her close and nuzzled her behind the ear, even as he reached back and removed the band from around her ponytail, freeing her hair to fall past her shoulders front and back. His breath fanned her ear, causing her tummy to rise and fall like a bouncing balloon.
“Mitch.” She pushed against his chest and had the fleeting thought:I wonder where his tats are?The exotic possibilities that came to mind shamed her, but inflamed her imagination. “Please stop this,” she said, unsure if she was addressing him or herself.
In any case, he complied. He drew up straight and angled back, but didn’t say anything, just looked at her, his eyes roving over her face, across her collarbone, down into the V-neck of her T-shirt. The view it offered made him smile.
“Mitch.”
He brought his eyes back up to hers. “Hmm?”
