Lance dropped his hand to her hip to hold her close. “You are a nurse, the same way I’m a Marine. It’s ingrained in us. Part of our identity. Neither thing means we can’t also have relationships.” His voice roughened as he spoke, but he didn’t fight it. He let her hear the truth in his tone, let her see it on his face. “And I want you, Lynn. For all that you are. All the parts of you I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet and all the parts I have. So, I’m not gonna let you hide behind your title.”
She stared up at him for several seconds before releasing a slow breath and curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Her expression, including the smile that tipped her lips, was suddenly and surprisingly sheepish. “The truth is, I haven’tdated in … a long time. I kind of threw myself into work and decided romance was overrated.”
He tried not to grin too smugly over that. “So, you’re a little rusty, huh?”
“I don’t really like the way you said that.”
He laughed and tugged her up against him. “Since both our games are kinda outdated, wanna make out in my car like a couple of teenagers?”
There was a single moment of pause where Lynn blinked up at him as if not believing he’d said such a thing. Or perhaps considering it. Then she hung her head—causing it to bump into his chest—and huffed, “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he teased as he slid his arm fully around her waist.
She met his gaze again, a spark glinting in her eyes. “I do believe that.” She pressed her fingertips into his chest and pushed back. His arm fell away out of necessity, but she caught him by the hand and pointed outward, beyond the parking area, with her other. “If you haven’t eaten yet, we can have a normal first date over there. Think your leg can handle the walk, Tough Guy?”
Lance followed where she indicated and spotted a worn but legible sign across the road and the next block over. The sign read LeeLee’s Diner, and he didn’t need to ask to guess that in a little town like Misty Glades, a long-established diner was clearly the place to be. It felt too cliché to be anything less. He grinned and returned his focus on the beauty in front of him. “I think I can make it.”
She rolled her eyes, but let him move her hand to the crook of his arm so he could hold her umbrella between them for better coverage. Of course, he made sure to tip it her way ever-so-slightly. He’d waded through worse than a soft sprinkle.
They walked at a leisurely pace, most of which he filled with chatter about meeting up with some old buddies that Jon had called in recently. She asked about his car, so he told her how he’d just signed the papers for it before calling her that morning. Then they were shuffling into the diner, Lynn pulling open the doors and Lance shaking off the umbrella in order to snap it shut. He didn’t know anything about the town beyond what he’d experienced at Jenna’s bakery a week ago, so he had no idea how well known or popular Lynn might be. He was fairly used to being an unfamiliar face wherever he went, though. If anything, he felt as if he were incognito, waltzing inside with no heavier equipment than anumbrella.
Not that he couldn’t kill a man with an umbrella. Lynn’s was the type that extended, too.
He shook the thoughts away before he could lose himself too far down the rabbit hole of all the ways he could theoretically end a life with a damn run-of-the-mill umbrella and stepped up at Lynn’s shoulder, in front of a quickly reddening young female whom he assumed to be a hostess.
The female flicked her eyes between them several times and snatched a second menu. “Two today?”
“Yep,” Lance answered, reaching out to snag Lynn’s hand again.
“We’d like a booth against the back if it’s possible,” Lynn said.
The hostess paused again, the words seeming to re-catch her focus.
For his part, Lance was a bit surprised, too. He’d thought he might have to suck up that itchy, exposed feeling for the day.
“Sure, we can do that,” the girl said, before guiding them down a row and swiftly to a booth at the back of the front-facing window aisle. “Will this do?”
Lance offered her a smile. “Just fine.” He motioned for Lynn to slide in first, then scooted himself down the bench with the wall at his back.
The hostess set down their menus, took their preliminary drink orders, and scurried off.
Lance looked across the table. “If you wanted the wall at your back, there’s plenty of room.” He grinned. “I won’t bite.”
Lynn reached over and shoved his untouched menu at him. “My dad’s retired Navy, remember? He does the same thing. I asked him about it when I was in high school and he explained it was a learned thing, something about feeling exposed. Said it had been worse when he was fresh out but that it never really went away.” She shrugged. “So, I figured you might have the same mentality, seeing as you were in longer.”
Lance chuckled. “Well, I appreciate that. You were not wrong.”Not by a mile.But lunch on their first official date was the wrong time to tell her that story. So, to distract himself, he flipped open the menu. “What do you recommend? I can eat just about anything.”
They talked about food for a few minutes, a kind older woman took their orders after dropping off their drinks, and Lance was trying not to stare like a psycho at the straw caught in Lynnette’s lips when commotion behind her drew his attention. Probably for the better.
From their corner booth they had a straight-shot line-of-sight to the main entrance, and a cluster of patrons was gathered near the front, not quite up to the bar-top seating. Voices were raising with every word, and while the tones were agitated, Lance realized it didn’t feel like a fight was brewing. It felt more like a group of agitated people commiserating together at the expense of those around them. And a quick glance at the occupied seats nearest the source verified that the agitated group was definitely ruffling some feathers.
Lynn set her drink down and twisted in her seat. “What’s all that ruckus?”
“Some old guys pissed off about something,” Lance replied with a shrug. “Politics, bad day at the fishing hole, or maybe one of their grandkids decided to date that punk they warned them against.” He said the last with a laughing grin.
