“I’m not sure I want to ever move from this spot again. That was fantastic. I can’t even describe how good it was.”
She plopped down into the chair opposite, snagged his wineglass and took a sip without asking. “Go ahead. Try.”
She really needed validation? He found that hard to believe, when she could produce such miraculous creations. “You do understand I’m not exactly a food critic, right? When I was a kid, a gourmet meal for us was a bucket of chicken. I’m only a dirt-poor kid turned soldier turned construction worker. Not sure if my opinion really holds all that much weight.”
“It does.”
“Okay. Well, I can’t tell what was my favorite part of the meal. That soup where all those flavors mixed together perfectly, the beef tenderloin that literally melted in my mouth or the roasted potatoes with the herb crust. What was that?”
“Oh, this and that. Rosemary, oregano, thyme and a few other secret things.”
He leaned back in his chair. “It was all divine. Every bit of the meal. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
“It’s always nice to hear it from somebody else.” Her grin was bright and infectious and he wanted to kiss her again, right here, right now, in full view of all her coworkers and the remaining patrons.
“When does your shift end?” he asked on impulse. Yeah, she had shut him down the last time when he asked to see her again but he couldn’t resist trying again.
“Now. We’re basically done for the night.”
If he were smart, he would thank her for a lovely dinner, head to his motel and try to sleep a little after a long day, preferably without frustrating dreams of her.
But sometimes the smart way seemed the coward’s way and he felt like living on the edge tonight.
“Up for another game of pool?”
She wanted to say yes. He didn’t know how he was so certain but for just an instant, something in her expression indicated she was seriously tempted, then wariness washed in like a dark cloud skating across the sky.
“I better not. I left Leo with Claire and Riley and told them I would swing by to pick him up after my shift.”
She paused, as if weighing her words. “I was planning to take him for a little walk to help us both unwind. You’re welcome to come along, assuming you can keep up.”
Laughter bubbled up. If he could keep up? He was used to twenty-mile forced marches in the middle of the night in the desert, carrying seventy-five pounds of gear, and she was implying she could out-hike him.
He could fall for this woman in a big way if he wasn’t careful.
Tonight he didn’t feel like being very careful.
“I’ll have to pry myself out of this booth first. After that delicious meal, that’s easier said than done.”
“Got a jacket handy, soldier? I was planning to hike up the Woodrose Mountain trail. It’s got a nice view of town from up there but the mountains are chilly once the sun goes down. The trailhead is just at the top of Sweet Laurel Falls Road.”
He loved the quaint place names in Hope’s Crossing. Glacier Lily Drive, Willowleaf Lane, Sweet Laurel Falls Road. Whoever went around with the naming pen had had a romantic streak. “I can find a jacket. Give me thirty minutes to run back to my motel for one and some hiking boots.”
And a flashlight or two, he thought, just to be safe.
“That should give me just enough time to change and pick up Leo.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you at the trailhead in half an hour.”
She nodded. “I have a few things to wrap up here before I head down the canyon. It might be closer to forty-five.”
“That works.”
Though she had been the one to issue the invitation, he had the impression she wasn’t entirely thrilled now at the idea of spending more time with him. Again, he had to wonder why. Awareness sparked and snapped between them every time they were within a dozen feet of each other. She had to sense it. Did it make her antsy, too?
She returned to the kitchen and he quickly settled his check then hurried outside the restaurant to the lobby of the Silver Strike Lodge, a massive timber structure built in the style of old national-park lodges that somehow managed to look rustic and elegant at the same time.
The lobby wasn’t crowded but it was busier than he might have expected for the off-season. Then again, it was Friday. He could imagine the resort did a fair business with Colorado residents looking for a quick weekend vacation.
He had self-parked—he hated paying for valet parking when a few more steps could get him his own damn pickup truck—but as he passed a short line at the valet stand, one of the men standing there stepped out.
“Sam! You’re just the man I wanted to see,” Brodie Thorne exclaimed.