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Flashes are blinding me, and my anxiety skyrockets, so I focus on my shoes and try not to trip. Wade guides me inside, tossing the keys to the valet as we stride through the double doors.
“You okay?” he asks once we’re inside, concern lacing his voice.
“I’m good.” I nod, offering a reassuring smile.
“Good evening,” he says to the blonde hostess. “I have a reservation under Hunter.”
“Of course,” she says without even glancing at her book. Her deep brown eyes are focused on Wade, eating him up. “Please follow me.”
Wade lets me pass in front of him, and a shiver ripples through my body. I’m well aware that he’s just placed his hand on the small of my back as we cross the restaurant. I focus on the hostess’ blonde hair to keep myself conscious.
Our table is tucked at the back of the restaurant in a dimly lit corner. Very date-like.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” the hostess asks, giving us each a menu.
“I’ll have a glass of dry white wine, please,” I say. I need something to relax my nerves.
“And still water for me,” says Wade.
“Certainly. Your waiter will be right with you.”
“You don’t like wine?” I ask, grabbing a gressini from the centre of the table. Who doesn’t like wine?
“I do. But I don’t drink alcohol during the season. I need to be at the top of my game.”
“Oh, I get it. Hangovers don’t exactly mix with intensive sports.” Ask me how I know.
His eyes gleam with interest. “Do you like working out?”
I grimace. “It’s a necessary evil. I do it to keep from getting flabby, but I’d rather not.”
He gives me a pointed look. “Oh, come on. You look great.”
“That’s kind of you,” I say, unfolding my napkin on my lap and trying to control the blush rising to my cheeks. Obviously, it doesn’t work, because blushes can’t be controlled. “Thanks to the necessary evil.”
“Well, I would be lost without exercise. I train four to six hours a day. Every day.”
My mouth falls open. “Wow. What do you even do during all that time? I’m done in, like, an hour, an hour and a half, tops.”
“I train my entire body from head to toe. I run, lift weights, work on my balance or speed. We should do it together sometime.”
I snort. “You and I don’t have the same definition of exercise,” I jest as the waiter, a tall, lanky bloke with Harry Potter glasses, brings us our drinks.
“Come on. It’d be fun. I’ll go easy on you, I promise.” Wade’s magnetic eyes lock on mine, sparkling with challenge.
This man shouldn’t be allowed. Period.
I take a long sip of my wine, welcoming the cold, crisp feeling on my tongue. But it doesn’t stop my body from bursting into flames. “Okay. I’ll go,” I say, opening the menu to detach my eyes from his. “So, do you come here often? What’s good?”
“I’ve been a few times. I always either take the baked salmon or the lasagna. Both good.”
“Don’t tell me you bring all your dates here,” I say over the top of the menu. “I’m offended.” Clearly, the wine is starting to take effect.
“Well, you’re the first date I’ve brought here, since I don’t usually date.” He winks.
The more he says “date,” the more comfortable the idea becomes. “Aww, now I feel special. Thanks. I think I’ll take the baked salmon, then.”
“Feisty. I like it. This should be fun,” he mumbles, more to himself than to me.
