Warning Track (Callahan Family #1) - Carrie Aarons Page 0,49
to myself that I’d actually enjoy the view since my job requires me to travel so much. My … well, I’m not sure what I call him. Do you know Bryant Templeman?”
Colleen’s brown eyes seem to search the air and then register. “Yes. Oh, of course, yes. I love his articles. Been reading them for years.”
“He and his wife are kind of my family, I guess. Anyway, he was always on me to enjoy the perks that came with traveling so often. When I first made it to the big leagues, he told me that I could let this career grind me down, or use it as a free ride to culture myself as well as play a sport I love. I didn’t take that advice seriously until recently, but I’m glad I did before this all comes to an end.”
She blinks. “That’s actually quite beautiful. It’s a good perspective to put things in, and I should take his advice, too. Lord knows, I never give myself a break. Your version of living this major league life sounds far more fun than mine does.”
I shrug, sending a look down at the wine list.
It feels nice to talk to someone about my life, especially someone I’m genuinely interested in. I don’t talk about Bryant often, or about what I’m trying to get out of life. But with Colleen, these types of conversations seem to come naturally. Actually, all types of conversations do with her.
Our waiter comes over, introduces himself, and then asks if we’d like anything to drink.
“I’m really not well-versed when it comes to wine,” I admit, because I’m not. “Do you see anything you’d like?”
Colleen scans the list. “Can we do a bottle of this Pinot Grigio?”
The waiter nods, tells her it’s a great choice, and then scurries off.
“Hope that’s okay. I only know about wine from client meetings I’ve been on, but I like to think I pick halfway decent ones.”
I smile. “Anything you pick will be better than my taste. I’m usually a whiskey or scotch man.”
“Most men wouldn’t admit to that, it’d be a complete embarrassment to the age-old, ridiculous chivalry of date etiquette.” Colleen inhales sharply. “Not that this is a date, I mean …”
Her wide eyes make me chuckle. “I hate that ritual, a man ordering for a woman. Half the time, I don’t even know what I want to eat. How am I supposed to guess, having never been out with you, what you want? It’s stupid and sexist if you ask me. As for the date part, I’d like to call it that if I knew it wouldn’t make you bolt for the door.”
I mean it. Ever since the supply closet, though it ended badly, I’ve wanted to take her out. Hell, I wanted to take her out long before that. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I was attracted. But my misplaced hatred of her family, who she is in the organization, and my own inability to juggle both playing and personal life held me back.
Now that I’ve kissed her … well, I can’t take my mind off of it. This was probably what other men talked about when they mentioned meeting the right woman and it all just clicking. I’m tired, like I told her, of bringing up why this is a bad idea. I’m tired of making excuses why we can’t at least explore an us as a possibility.
“Hayes, thank you for asking me here, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” Her amber-colored eyes are shifty, assessing the restaurant every second to make sure no one notices us.
Reaching across the table in what is a very risky move, I lay my hand over hers. “We don’t have to make this a big deal. We are two people, having dinner. If anyone recognizes us, we explain it away. There doesn’t have to be some big conversation tonight, even about the supply closet, though I do want to talk about it. Let’s just relax. Aren’t you tired of all the drama, the tension? Can’t we just be content for one night?”
Her face seems to soften a bit, and she smiles a sheepish, but slightly flirty grin. “Okay, you win. For this dinner, at least, we can be just …”
I have a feeling she’s about to say us and is saved by the waiter when he comes to take our dinner order. Studying her while she weighs her indecision between the soft shell crab or