rain, but lost the race about two blocks from here.”
His manners kicked in and he helped her out of her jacket. A quick look around showed no hooks, so he laid it on his side of the booth so she wouldn’t get even wetter.
“I can put it over here,” she offered.
“It’s good.” He sat back down after she’d taken a seat.
The vinyl booth squeaked as she slid over then shuffled around until she was comfortable. She picked up the menu, flipping it open. “Have you eaten here before?” She gave a quick glance up. “I’ve seen it, but never stopped. It’s a bit out of my way.”
She fiddled with the edge of the plastic menu, fingers tapping on the back. He studied the movement for a moment, a smile easing out. Nervous energy? Habit? Or completely unconscious?
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
Her head jerked up, menu lowering to the table. She seemed stunned for a second, mouth working before a chuckle came out. “You’re welcome. And back at you.”
“I could’ve picked you up.”
“I’m fine,” she brushed his concern away. “A little water never hurt me.”
The novelty of her response had him shaking his head. No woman he’d ever dated would’ve said that. “I like you.” The words were out before he’d processed how they’d come across.
Her eyes widened. “Well, that’s good to know.”
Damn. “I meant you’re easy,” he tried to recover. “I mean down to earth.” And he was making it worse. Fuck. He clamped his mouth shut, heat flushing over his chest to creep up his neck.
“Ah...thanks again?” The questioning rise at the end solidified his embarrassment.
“That’s a good thing.” He tossed the last out like a white flag of surrender, as futile as it probably was at that point.
She sat back, head tilted in contemplation. Her cheeks were pink from exertion or warmth. Or maybe that was her natural complexion. He had past girlfriends who would’ve killed for that rosy look. Her hair draped down her back, slightly damp and frizzing a little from the moisture. Her gray hoodie bore the college insignia and looked comfortable on her.
Again, nothing flashy. No dressing to impress him, or anyone for that matter.
“You’re an interesting man, Henrik Grenick.”
He resisted the urge to fidget and let her finish her silent assessment. He’d been called a lot worse than interesting, so he put that comment in the plus column.
“So—” she picked her menu back up, “—do you recommend anything?”
That was it? “Uh...what do you feel like eating?” He’d eaten there a few times, but his tastes usually differed from his dates’.
“How are the burgers?”
“Excellent.”
She closed her menu and set it aside. “Well, that was easy.”
Yeah. That was. A bit of the tension slipped from his shoulders as he sat back. Maybe he hadn’t ruined his chances with her. “How was your week?” he asked, actually interested.
She shrugged. “The usual. Yours?”
His chuckle was real and refreshing. Like her. “The usual.” He met her smile, amusement dancing between them. The absence of a long diatribe of wrongs and issues left him at a loss. A good one though.
They placed their orders when the waitress stopped by. Jacqui didn’t even comment on the size of his order—another nice surprise. In season, the nutritionist had him consuming close to 6000 calories a day to maintain his ideal playing weight. Most of his girlfriends couldn’t comprehend that. But Jacqui had grown up with four brothers who played hockey. Maybe she understood.
“So, Henrik,” Jacqui said, eyeing him again. “What got you interested in music?”
It’d been so long since anyone had asked him that question, he stumbled for an answer. He could whip out a canned reply if she’d asked about hockey instead of music, but she hadn’t.
“It was more of a who.” His heart expanded and ached. Remembering his grandmother always led to thoughts of his sister. “My grandmother was a lover of the arts. She started all of us on the piano when we were little.”
“I thought you said you didn’t play the piano.”
Of course she’d remember that. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
“That’s a shame.” The softness of honest loss whispered through her words. “Why not?”
He shook the question off, the answer too personal for a first date. This was a date, right? “Time. Interest.” He shrugged. The bluff was old, one he’d successfully given his family—and himself—many times. His leg bounced with the nerves that wove through him the longer she remained silent, her assessing gaze too knowing.