His gaze sharpened on her. “You’re very direct.”
Jeez, Grace, lighten up. It’s a first date.She was supposed to be telling him about her favorite food, sports team, and hobbies. Not interrogating him about why he’d asked her out.
“Sorry. I guess I’m a little nervous.” She reached for her water.
He touched her wrist. “That wasn’t a complaint. I like that about you, Grace. To a guy who’s been around a lot of hardened, guarded people, you’re pretty darned refreshing.”
His fingers trailed away as he withdrew his hand, and Grace was still feeling the touch a full five seconds later.
“And that kiss,” he continued. “Obviously it didn’t negate all the obstacles. It just made me realize I cared too much to let them stand in the way.”
Grace’s lungs emptied even as his gaze captured hers, leaving her no means of escape. “And you say I’m direct.”
His lips twitched. “Too much?”
“You’ve surprised me again.”
“It’s fun keeping you on your toes.”
“My heels haven’t touched the ground since we met.”
He chuckled, that dimple making an appearance, and the warm, rich sound wove around her like a spell.
“I think I’d like to keep it that way,” he said.
She imagined him literally lifting her heels off the ground, with his arms around her waist, lifting her into him, chest to chest, his mouth pressed to hers.
When the image cleared, there was Wyatt, studying her face, not missing a single thing. “What are you thinking about over there, Grace Bennett?”
“Nothing,” she said, then grimaced because Molly was right. Two whole octaves.
He gave a lazy smile that made her think of sultry summer evenings and moonlit kisses.
“Hold that thought,” he said.
Whew. Was it getting hot out here?
They talked nonstop as they waited for their food. He had a hundred questions about her family and growing up in Bluebell. Shehad plenty of her own about his summers here as a child and about his family—which consisted mostly of his father, stepmother, cousins, aunts, and uncles. He had two sets of grandparents who lived in Florida and Pennsylvania but didn’t see them often.
Before she knew it the food arrived, and the aroma of his barbecue pork took first prize. On the trail they’d each prayed over their own meals, so she was surprised—pleasantly so—when he took her hand and offered a quick grace.
“Thank you,” she said as he squeezed her hand, and they both dug into their meals.
He shared a bite of his pork with her, and she had a moment of regret until she tasted her own crispy fried fish. “Yum. Wanna try?”
When he agreed she offered him a bite on her own fork. He tasted it, then nodded in approval. “Good. Not at all fishy.”
“I think fish is the only food that isn’t supposed to taste like what it is. You never hear anyone complain of beef that’s too beefy.”
“Or chicken that’s too chicken-y.”
“Right? It’s weird.”
“So,” he said after they’d enjoyed a bite or two in silence. “You basically opened a business straight out of high school? You didn’t want to go to college?”
“Not really. Which is a little strange because I had good grades. Levi about had a conniption when he found out—the summer after I graduated high school. I got a lot of lectures about how many business start-ups fail.”
“That was a bold, independent decision on your part.”
