Page 29 of Bailey

“Do I?” Reeves didn’t know how to clear his expression from whatever she’d seen, so he simply faced the row of businesses in front of him, pushed Bailey’s door closed, and headed toward Westinghouse.

“I know it’s hard for you to be out in public,” she said. “We could get our food and go see if there’s more wildflowers in another meadow.”

Reeves shook his head. “There won’t be,” he said. “It’s still too early.” He glanced over to her, his heart warming. “But thank you for offering. That means a lot.”

“We could still take our food somewhere else,” she said. “Whiskey Mountain Lodge has great picnic tables on the edge of the forest.”

He stepped up onto the sidewalk and reached for the door. It chimed as he pulled it open, and Bailey entered first.

Reeves quickly crowded in behind her. She wore a pair of black slacks tonight with a pink, purple, and white-plaid blouse with puffy sleeves. She’d left her jacket in the car, while Reeves wore a black leather jacket over a simple light brown T-shirt. As he’d been going through his clothing options for fast-casual restaurant dates, he’d realized that the majority of his wardrobe bore his logo or had knives and steaks on it. This shirt, in fact, had both, but the logo was on the left side, currently covered by his jacket, and the steak hanging off the tip of the knife was on the back.

He immediately looked around to see how busy the restaurant was. The early hour meant that only a half-dozen tables held people, though the restaurant boasted room for probably four or five times that. The young men who’d entered in front of him stood at the cash register, paying, and he slowed as he walked down the aisle on the left side, looking at the menu items hanging on the wall. Perhaps that would buy him enough time for them to move on.

He wasn’t sure why he cared. He hadn’t done anything wrong by kissing Bailey, and he didn’t really care who saw them. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed, though, so he linked his left arm through her right and stepped slightly in front of her to shield her from their view.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“Loads of times,” Bailey said. “Sometimes I send Marina here to get lunch for the clinic.” She looked at him, her blue eyes sparkling and playful again, and a wave of happiness moved through Reeves. “Do you want me to order for you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You think you know me well enough to order for me?”

“For this, I do.” She grinned like it was the only thing she knew how to do, and Reeves gave in.

He returned her smile and said, “All right, you do your best now.”

He’d eat whatever she ordered, he knew that. He also had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he gave in to what this gorgeous woman wanted. She led him down the aisle to where the first woman waited to take their order.

“I’ll have the CBLT salad bowl,” she said.

“What dressing?”

“Ranch,” Bailey said. “And can I get extra croutons on that?”

“Yep.” The woman tapped a few times on her screen, and then looked up expectantly. “You can modify the salad on the line.” She indicated the space to their right, and Bailey glanced that way for a moment.

“And I want that triple berry lemonade,” Bailey said. “And…one of your fruity crispy rice treats.”

The woman looked down again, and Bailey cut a glance over to Reeves. He once again felt like he’d climbed onto some sort of carnival ride—one that spun in one direction until he thought he might be sick, and then started whipping him in the other. Bailey had transformed into a completely different woman from the one he’d picked up for their date, and while he’d take her any way he could get her, he sure did like this happy, at-ease female beside him.

“And we want a steak and cheese hot dish sambo,” she said.

Reeves immediately started searching the menu board for it. He did like steak and cheese, and while he wasn’t quite sure what “hot dish” meant, he trusted Bailey.

“Sourdough, honey, whole wheat?” The woman looked up, her eyebrows raised. “You can have that on any of our signature breads.”

“Focaccia,” Bailey said. “No, the salted focaccia. Can you get the sambo on that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“With extra gravy on the side,” Bailey said. “It’s the brown gravy, right?”

“Yes,” the woman said.

“Yes, that’s what he wants.” Bailey looked at him, her eyes bright, and her teeth sparkling in her smile. “Trust me, you’re gonna love this.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, the low rumble of his own voice barely meeting his ears.

“Something to drink?” the woman asked. “Dessert?”