fingers sinking into putty.
I’ve only known Scarlett for a few weeks…not counting the first time we actually met a year ago. But it would pulverize me if she left—even more so than when Marie left. That was a dark time, but it’s a speck of dust compared to my feelings for Scarlett.
With Marie, it was all passion and excitement, but it was surface. We never talked about anything serious. She never talked to the girls, never really made an effort. With Scarlett, the passion is there, but it’s more. She’s like a sun shining through all the dark spots in my life. She’s present. She makes an effort for everyone around her, like she really cares. And I want to be around her, not just because of the sex but to see what she’ll say. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel. It’s invigorating and terrifying in equal measure.
The morning is hectic. Permits are coming through for Savor, which means we can open as soon as next week. I tell Oliver the good news and then press him for details on what kind of information he has on Marie that makes her run scared, but he’s not talking.
Then Oliver presses me about getting the lot purchased—again—and I have to think quick to put him off.
I want to have my cake and eat it too, literally, but I don’t know how. I tell Oliver I’m working on it and it will all be taken care of when Savor opens. That’s a lie that I hope to become a truth. Somehow.
When we hang up, stress is thumping a dull ache in my temples, but I shake it off. I want to see Scarlett, but it’s not until after lunch I can catch a break.
“Go see her.”
I glance up to see Carson standing in the doorway.
“She’s open. And you’ve been a cranky ass all day.”
“Fine.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
In less than a minute, I’m out the door and striding to her truck.
Fred is at the window, taking orders, and she yells into the back as I approach.
“Romeo, twelve o’clock,” Fred calls out.
“Thanks, Fred.”
The sound of her laughter-infused voice has me wound tighter than a spring.
The backdoor swings open and then Scarlett is there and she’s in front of me, smiling wide. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Seeing her makes everything in my body uncoil, and a new tension fills the space. “Do you have any plans for dinner tonight?”
She fidgets with her apron. “Actually, I have plans with Fred and Bethany.”
“Oh.” Is she putting me off because of everything that happened last night?
But then she’s quick to reassure me, reaching out a hand and placing it gently on my arm. “It’s not what you think; I do want to have dinner with you. I just can’t tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”
“I can’t.” I rub the back of my head. “Ava has a school concert.”
“Well, maybe Fred can switch our plans?” She turns, her voice hopeful. “We can go out tomorrow night instead of tonight.”
“No can do. There’s a new episode of Doctor Who on tomorrow night.”
“You can’t adjust our plans because you want to watch some show?”
Fred spins around, mouth agape. “Some show? How dare you.”
I interject. “It’s okay. Night after tomorrow.”
Her smile washes away the stress of the day. “Then it’s a date.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”
“Okay.” She’s still smiling.
“Dress warm.”
“Okay.” The smile grows.
We stare at each other, my cheeks are hurting, and I wonder if my smile appears as goofy as hers and decide it most likely does, especially as I’m leaning toward her and Fred groans in the background. “Barf. Would you two get a room?”
I’m still going in for a kiss, but Fred’s words jar Scarlett enough that she leans to the side like she’s going in for a hug and we end up performing some kind of awkward half embrace and bungle the whole thing.
Scarlett bursts out laughing, and I pull away before I can make this situation even worse.
“I’ll see you.”
“Bye,” Scarlett says.
Fred calls out “Bye Guy!” Then in a lower tone that I can still hear, she says to Scarlett, “Your weird totally matches.”
I’m too giddy, already thinking about where to take Scarlett to wonder what she means.
Chapter Eighteen
After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.
–Oscar Wilde
Scarlett
I’m a nervous Nellie by the time Guy calls up to my apartment right at 7:30. Jittery like a June bug.
“Be right down,” I say into the speaker.
I take one last glance in the mirror. I didn’t want