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“You look beautiful,” I blurted before my brain could filter the words into something more casual.

Sloane’s cheeks turned a cute shade of pink, and she suddenly found her key fob completely fascinating, pressing the lock button twice so her car gave a little obedient chirp.

“Thank you.” She slid her keys into her purse, her gaze slowly traveling from my boots up to my collar. “You look very intentionally dressed.”

I glanced down at the dark button-down I’d thrown on, my thumb catching on the hem. My bedroom floor back home was currently a total disaster zone, covered in all the clothing I’d discarded, which included two different polos, a sweater I thought made me look like I was trying too hard, and the beat-up hoodie I practically lived in. “That sounds a bit like an accusation.”

“Just an observation,” she said, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It means I can tell you put some real thought into this instead of just grabbing the first clean thing at the top of the laundry basket.”

“All right, detective, how many shirts do you think I went through?” I asked, taking a half-step closer, stepping into her space just enough to let her know I wasn’t intimidated by the interrogation.

“Four,” she answered without a shred of doubt.

I let out a low laugh, the nervous knot that had been sitting in my stomach ever since I parked my truck finally starting to unravel. “Three. I had to draw a line because the internal wardrobe crisis was getting slightly ridiculous.”

She grinned. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Well, fair’s fair,” I said, watching the way the breeze caught strands of her hair. “How many options did you try on before you finally made it out here?”

“This was the absolute first thing I picked,” she claimed, gesturing down at her outfit with a little flourish.

I cocked an eyebrow. I wasn’t buying that story for a single second.

Sloane cracked under the scrutiny within three seconds, her shoulders dropping as she sighed in defeat. “Fine. It was the third complete outfit choice and the seventh shirt variation. But I swear the jeans were a pick from the first round.”

“Then I definitely appreciate the honesty,” I said, flashing her an easy grin.

As we walked toward the entrance, our shoulders brushed. Neither of us moved away.

The hostess greeted us and led us past several booths to one beside the windows. The dinner rush hadn’t fully started yet, though enough people filled the restaurant to create a comfortable level of noise. Plates clattered. Children negotiated dessert requirements with parents.

Sloane slid into the booth across from me. “This is perfect.”

“You haven’t seen the food yet.”

“I saw the carpet.”

I glanced down. The carpet had a dark floral pattern designed to conceal years of spills and possibly several crimes.

“What does the carpet tell you?”

“The best buffets always have carpet that has witnessed things.”

A server brought water and asked whether we wanted the buffet.

“Are we doing this?” Sloane asked.

“I thought that was the plan.”

“No restraint?”

“None.”

Her eyes brightened. “Excellent.”

We went to the first buffet station with empty plates and enough confidence to concern nearby diners.

The selection stretched across five heated counters.