The Gritty Truth (The Whiskeys Dark Knights at Peaceful Harbor #7) - Melissa Foster Page 0,13

important! Maybe she was special to him after all.

She looked at the to-go cups and said, “Is one of these for me?”

“Mm-hm. The one on the left is water with lemon.”

Her favorite drink. “Oh gosh, you remembered everything,” she said.

“I hope so. I got you a club salad with extra avocado, honey mustard dressing, and a side of grilled Brussel sprouts. To be honest, I had to check our old texts to remember what kind of dressing you liked.”

Inside she was doing a little happy dance, and she felt comfortable enough to tease him. “You did? Maybe I should rethink this date after all.”

He laughed.

She held up the flowers he’d given her and said, “Would you be offended if I put these in my water?”

“Hold on a sec.” He jumped out of the truck and went around to the front, grabbed something from the cab, and climbed back in with a plastic cup that had WHISKEY AUTOMOTIVE printed on the side and a bottle of water. He poured the water into the cup and held it out. “It’s not fancy, but it’ll do.”

“It’s perfect.” She put the flowers in the cup, and they settled in on the blankets.

Quincy leaned over and touched the best-friend charm on her necklace, the brush of his fingers on her skin sending prickles of heat through her. “Who’s got the other half?”

“The one I’m always whispering with. Angela.”

“Lucky girl.” He held her gaze so long, the air between them sizzled. When she shifted her eyes away, he began taking the tops off the containers and said, “Hungry? This food isn’t going to eat itself.”

She was in awe of everything he’d done. Even the way he’d surprised her was special. “This looks amazing, Quincy. Thank you for going to all this trouble.”

“Thanks for joining me.” As they started eating, he said, “How long have you taught dance?”

“Officially, a little more than a year.”

“What do you mean, officially?”

“I did some teaching when I was growing up. I’ve danced at this studio since I was five, two days a week at first, like Kennedy. But I loved it so much, dancing was all I wanted to do. I’d make up songs about whatever we were learning in school and dance in the halls, and at home while I did my chores.”

“I bet you were adorable,” he said, and the warmth in his eyes told her he really meant it.

“I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“So you danced two days a week growing up?”

“For a bit. Eventually I wanted to take three dance classes each week. But my grandmother, who raised me, was a waitress and a seamstress, and she didn’t earn much money. She was good with it, saving every tip, every extra penny. But even when I was young, I knew dance classes were a luxury. So to earn extra money, I started helping neighbors in our apartment building. I walked their dogs, played with kids while their moms were busy. I’d do whatever they’d let me do to earn the difference in tuition between two and three classes per week.”

They ate as they talked, and Quincy watched her intently, listening to every word she said, like her grandmother used to. Like he cared about her answers.

“I loved studying under Elisa, the owner of the studio. She danced professionally all over the world for more than twenty years, and she retired when her mother got sick. She came back here to take care of her, and after her mother passed away, she opened the studio. She’s an amazing person, and an even more incredible dancer. I’ll never forget the day she pulled me aside after one of my classes and suggested I take private lessons. I was ten, and when she said I reminded her of herself, it was the biggest compliment I could imagine, and I burst into tears.” She took a sip of her water and said, “I’m such a dork.”

“You’re not a dork. You’re passionate, and that’s wonderful.” He ate one of his fries and offered her one.

“Thanks. I love fries.” She loved that he shared even more. “Do you want some of my salad or sprouts?”

A flicker of wickedness shimmered in his eyes. “I’d like everything of yours.” He stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork and popped it in his mouth, holding her gaze as he said, “Mm, sweet and juicy.”

“Ohmygod.” She turned away, her cheeks burning.

“You’re sexy when you blush.”

She caught his grin and couldn’t stop her own from appearing.