She searched the cabinets for a vase, watching Reed glance outside at the romantic setting of the candlelit table. “If you want to grab the bottle of wine on the table, I’ll open it. It’s from Tracy and Vincent’s winery in Italy. I wasn’t sure if you drank wine, so I have Jack Daniels too.”
“I like wine.”
Reed opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. The cool evening air brought a welcomed relief to the heat gathering beneath her dress, and tingled her warm skin. JC could only stare, studying his confident casual stride and dress shirt that fit snug against the flexed muscles of his back.
Before she realized what she was doing, JC proceeded out the door after him. Standing silently behind him, a shiver chased down her spine. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him all day, but struggled momentarily with her internal fears. Very rarely, if ever, did she reveal her emotions to a man, but she found it nearly impossible not to tell Reed everything.
The distance between them evaporated and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his back. “Reed?”
“Yes, darlin’?” He bowed his head and lifted her fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.
“I…I just wanted to tell you,”—she relaxed against his back and blew out a big sigh of relief—“God I missed you today. I almost came over to your house three times.”
“I’m fairly certain you would’ve found me pacing in front of the front window. I think I spent half the day peering outside, hoping to see you walkin’ down my driveway.” He turned slightly and pulled her into a one-armed embrace, resting his cheek on her head.
A content smile warmed her face. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”
JC stepped inside while Reed opened and poured the wine. She returned carrying a large tray, complete with a silver dome, looking somewhat like a room service attendant. Reed lifted the lid, releasing the mouthwatering aroma of steak, baked potatoes, roasted vegetables and a salad.
“Wow. This looks and smells incredible. You can cook?”
“Of course I can cook. It’s been a while, but sometimes I really enjoy cooking.”
“Do you make dinner for all your first dates?” he asked in bemusement.
“I don’t ever bring people to my parents’ house, so, no, I never cook for first dates. Besides, I thought you were supposed to be my boyfriend, not my date.” Her stomach tingled waiting for his response.
Tiny laugh lines surrounding his eyes deepened when he shot her a heart-stopping smile. “I stand corrected. Boyfriend it is.”
Heat rose to her cheeks as she nodded.
Reed shot her a quizzical look of surprise. “Why don’t you bring anyone to your parents’ houses?”
She gestured with her wine glass for him to dig in. As they ate, JC explained that she’d been let down by people she thought were her friends. “After my mom and Tom got married girls I’d known since grade school would blab about anything, truth or fabricated, with the slightest incentive waved in front of their faces. Making new friends in college and Hollywood came with their own set of difficulties.”
Reed laughed when she told him, Leery and Cautious became her best friends and they hung out with her all the time.
The rest of their conversation flowed easily all through dinner. Both seemed anxious to share stories and details of their lives. Reed paused between stories, making appreciative sounds and murmurs of, Umm, this is delicious. This is the best steak I’ve ever eaten.
She finally caved, confessing she’d driven thirty miles to a butcher market. “I bought dry-aged steaks. The butcher swore they’d impress any man, even a Texan. The dry-aging is supposed to break down the enzymes, creating the most ultimate and tender cut of meat. But I won’t tell you what it looked like. Definitely not pretty. If this steak hadn’t smelled so good, I wouldn’t have been able to eat it.”
“Where’d you learn how to cook? Did you take classes in Europe?”
She grimaced slightly, sinking back into her chair, taking a long sip of wine.
“Let me guess. You dated a chef,” he teased with a small eye roll.
“I learned how to cook after my dad died.” She acknowledged in a broken whisper. “My mom didn’t handle his death very well, at all. She climbed into bed and didn’t come out for over eight months.”
“You said you were a senior in high school. That had to be hard for you.” Compassion and understanding filled his voice.
“It was terrible. We didn’t know how to fix her or make it better for her. My parents were madly in love and my mom was always such a strong woman. But after my dad died, I thought we were going to lose her too,” she admitted quietly. “So I cooked and cleaned, John took care of all the house responsibilities and Tracy took care of my mom.”