thing had been a serious gift or a joke.
Maybe I can get a table and get out of it before she gets here, he thought.
“Everett?”
At the sound of his name in that soft, southern drawl, he turned and promptly forgot about the heinous sweater.
Sylvie’s sunny hair was loose, spilling over the shoulders of her red parka. Her mouth was curved in a half-smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. It was such a departure from the strained, upset woman he’d seen at Vandevelde’s that, for a moment, he was struck dumb. He’d known in a purely academic sense that she was beautiful. But he’d been focused on her situation, not on the woman herself. She was absolutely stunning.
“Wow.”
The half smile turned full wattage, and Everett realized he’d said that aloud. Whatever embarrassment he felt never actually manifested, as his synapses were, quite simply, fried.
“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.
The best he could manage was a shake of the head.
“This way please,” said the hostess.
Right. There were other people here. In the restaurant. Where they were going to have a meal.
Everett held out his hand in an after you gesture. Sylvie moved by him and he loosed a breath. Okay, buddy, get in the game.
El Charro had decorated for the occasion. The mural painted walls were draped in twinkle lights, and the over-table lights were set to dim. Across the room, a quartet of mariachis played a bright, bouncy polka for a family of six.
Everett managed to get his brain in gear just in time to pull out a chair for Sylvie. The gesture seemed to fluster her. A blush crept across her cheeks as she eased into the spot and began to shimmy out of the coat. Circling around to the other side of the table, he blessed his mother for the endless drills on manners and etiquette. No matter how rattled he was, he could always fall back on that.
The arrival of their server with a basket of chips and salsa put off the awkward lull in conversation for a few moments longer. They both ordered a glass of wine.
“Can I interest you in any other appetizers?”
“Queso,” they said in unison, and laughed.
“The great equalizer,” said Everett as the waitress walked away.
“It’s a personal weakness,” she admitted.
“I can think of worse forms of kryptonite.”
Sylvie’s focus dipped down to the chips and salsa. She took one and said, “I have a confession.”
“Oh yeah?” What would this be? That she recognized him from the jewelers? That she knew who he really was?
“I almost didn’t come tonight. My roommate browbeat me into it.”
“Oh.” What else did you say to that kind of announcement?
She looked up, a hint of alarm on her face as it hit her that she might have insulted him. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet you,” she said in a rush. Her hand shot out to cover his. “I’ve really enjoyed chatting with you this week. But in the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you my last relationship was a real doozy of a failure, and it’s left me a little bit gun shy.”
Her fingers were warm. Everett wanted to turn his hand to link with hers but didn’t think she realized she’d moved, so he held still.
“Nothing wrong with being cautious,” he said. “I’ve had my share of less than successful attempts.” Women who’d looked at his name and seen dollar signs rather than him. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad your roommate changed your mind.”
Sylvie smiled at him again, and it arrowed straight to his chest. Oh boy.
“Here we go. Two white wines, one bowl of queso.”
They both eased back as the waitress served them, and Everett regretted the loss of her touch.