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Wyatt reaches across the table and moves the roll away from my face so he can look me in the eye.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

“No.”

“You know I am a cop. I have my ways.” He doesn’t even need to do that. One look at those eyes and wide smile, and I’m singing like a bird.

“It’s Willa, OK? My name is Milicent Willa Evans.” I take a long sip of wine, looking anywhere but at his face.

“Yeah? That is amazing,” he says, and I get the feeling he honestly likes it. “It suits you.”

“How so?” I ask skeptically.

“It’s beautiful and original. Milicent,” he says, letting the name roll off his lips.

“While I appreciate that, Millie will do just fine.”

“Got it,” he says.

“What’s your middle name?” I ask.

“Nothing nearly as authentic as that. My full name is Wyatt Noah Hudson.”

How nice it must feel to share your full name and not cringe.

I shake my head in disbelief.

“What?” he questions.

“It’s just a hot guy's name. Just like your hot guy car.”

“My hot guy car?” He laughs. “What does that even mean?”

“Nothing. It suits you.” I repeat his words, eliciting a smirk from those perfect lips.

“So, did you always want to be a cop?” I ask.

“I always had an interest in law enforcement,” he answers. “My dad is a retired detective, so it seemed natural to follow in his footsteps.”

“I bet he’s very proud of you,” I tell him.

He contemplates that statement for a moment. “He is, but he never wanted me to do this. It can be tough on people, mentally.”

“That makes sense,” I acknowledge.

I can’t believe how easily the conversation is flowing. Our server comes by with our salads as we continue to get to know one another.

“Do you date a lot?” I ask him and inwardly wince because I don’t want to know.

“No,” he answers. “Not at all.”

“Really?” I ask in disbelief.

“Really,” he says.

“But, I mean, have you seen you?”

He chuckles, and it makes me feel giddy.