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Chapter Seven
It had been so long since Laurel had been on a date she had a hard time deciding what to wear. Since Zack had said he was taking her to Blue, the new restaurant at the Barrels Winery, she needed something a little dressy, cute, not boring, and totally not what she’d wear to work.
At first thought, she had nothing. But then she remembered the skirt she’d bought on clearance because it had a small tear at the waistline. So she’d snapped it up, mended the tear and hadn’t worn it yet. She’d been saving it and now was the perfect occasion.
The skirt was black, gray and white, and striped with alternating colors of differing widths. It hit a couple of inches above her knees. She paired it with a fitted, long-sleeved black top, a silver necklace and earrings her parents had given her when she graduated community college, and high-heeled black pumps with a peek-a-boo toe. With the addition of a little extra care with her makeup, she liked the look. This was definitely not the same old Laurel.
Her house was oddly quiet with the kids gone. Though she’d felt a little uncomfortable, she’d done as promised and asked Savannah if she and Harlan wanted the kids for the night. Savannah had agreed immediately and seemed as excited about her date with Zack as she was.
It’s just a date. Not a big deal. Just because he told you he wanted to make love to you—
And that was it. Ever since he’d told her he wanted her, she’d been thinking about it constantly. Kissing him, as she had last weekend, had only revved her up and made her wonder what the real deal would be like.
She and Stan had stopped having sex long before he left her. In fact, he’d hardly touched her since before Katrina’s birth. Stan hadn’t wanted another child and had tried to convince her to have an abortion. When she refused he left and didn’t return for a week. They’d made up but to say her pregnancy and the subsequent birth of her second child had put a strain on the marriage was a massive understatement. Of course, that hadn’t been the only factor or even the main one. But she hadn’t realized that until much later.
Her doorbell rang, happily putting an end to her reflections. She opened the door, saying, “Come in.” Zack looked good. Really good. Mouthwatering. Hot. His dark hair was brushed and he’d shaved recently. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a button-down forest-green shirt that enhanced the color of his eyes. Those eyes were looking at her with a very appreciative glint in them.
“You look great,” he said.
“Thank you. So do you.”
He grinned at that.
“I’ve never been to Blue. Have you?” Laurel asked him.
“No, but I hear it’s good. They call it New American cuisine. Not that I have a clue what that means.”
“Don’t ask me,” she said. “The nicest place I’ve been to recently is the Diner. Don’t get me wrong, I love the place, but fancy it isn’t. Before that I went to Baron’s Steakhouse, but that was a long time ago.”
The restaurant was lovely. It was new and fresh, modern, though not so much so that it was out of place in Whiskey River. Sophisticated and elegant was how Laurel would describe it. Their hostess led them to a small table in the corner, one of the half-circle beige padded booths. The tables were wood-topped, and the wooden rafters of the high ceilings were reminiscent of the Barrels Winery itself. Artwork from local artists adorned the walls. Both modern art and more traditional artwork somehow mixed well together. The lighting was subdued but not so dark as to make it hard to see. Soft jazz and rhythm and blues played in the background.
“What would you like to drink?” Zack asked her.
“Not a margarita,” Laurel said.
His mouth lifted in a smile. “Off those for a little while, are you?”
“Possibly for life. I don’t usually drink much and I thought I was going to die from that hangover. Not to mention,” she added dryly, “I made a fool of myself with you.”
“No you didn’t. You weren’t a fool. A little reckless, is all.”
“A lot reckless. I threw myself at you. If you’d been anyone else…” She could have really been in trouble.
“Why would I mind a beautiful woman throwing herself at me? Although, I admit, I wish you hadn’t been drunk.”
Their eyes met and held. She had a feeling they were both thinking the same thing. She almost fanned herself.
“I wish I hadn’t been too.”
*
Zack almost askedher if she wished she hadn’t drunk too much for the same reason he did. But her statement could have been taken several ways, none of them necessarily meaning she wished they’d had sex.
“How about a glass of wine?” Zack asked.
“That sounds good,” she said, looking at the menu.
“White or red?”
