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“What about you?” she asked, pulling herself back to the present. “What are you ordering?”

I smirked. “Would you believe me if I said the same thing?”

Her lips parted slightly. “Really?”

“Is it that surprising that a southern boy likes his bourbon?”

She tilted her head, studying me. “I suppose not.”

Her eyes dropped to the menu, and I watched as she traced her fingers over the options.

“What’s good here?” she asked.

“Everything,” I said without hesitation. “This place was a favorite of mine growing up. My parents and I used to come here all the time.”

She glanced up, something unreadable in her expression. For a moment, it felt like we were sharing more than just a meal—it felt like we were sharing pieces of ourselves, little glimpses into the past that shaped us.

As soon as the waiter walked up, Rose set her menu down with a confident smile. “I’ll have a bourbon, neat.”

The guy barely blinked before nodding. “And for you, sir?”

I smirked. “Same.”

The waiter took our drink menus and left and Rose shot me a look across the table. “He didn’t even hesitate. You think he judged me?”

“Nah,” I said, leaning back. “But if you’d ordered it with a little pink umbrella, then maybe.”

She snorted. “You’d be surprised how many bartenders do that automatically when a woman orders bourbon. As if I’m about to say, ‘Oh, sorry, I actually meant a daiquiri with a sugar rim and a cherry on top.’”

“Now I kind of want to see you order that just to mess with people.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed. “Maybe next time.”

Next time.

The drinks arrived, and Rose took her glass with both hands, giving it a little appreciative nod before taking a sip.

She barely got the glass back down before her nose scrunched. “Okay, wow. That’s stronger than I remember.”

I bit back a laugh. “You were trying to act all tough, weren’t you?”

“No,” she said, setting the glass down like it personally offended her. “I just wasn’t prepared for it to punch me in the throat.”

I took a sip of mine, enjoying the burn. “Don’t worry, Sunshine. If you need me to get you a daiquiri with a sugar rim and a cherry on top, I got you.”

She narrowed her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t like you.”

I smirked. “You definitely do.”

The waiter returned to take our order, and I went with the steak, while Rose ordered the shrimp and grits.

“Classic,” I said after the waiter walked away.

“I’m in the South. I figured I had to, right?”

“You won’t regret it. I promise.” I confirmed.

She swirled her glass in her hand, studying me. “You seem more relaxed.”