“I’ll let you know.” The scenery of Torrey Junction sailed past, a blur of lights just coming on at dusk in the summer. Late sunsets were good. The car wended its way up the road to the bluff overlooking the ocean, to the newly built, mid-century modern restaurant.
I tipped the driver and went to the restaurant entrance. I checked my phone again. Still no response from Sheridan. The foyer was jam-packed, so I shouldered through the crowd to the hostess station.
“There’s a two-hour wait,” she said. “Unless you have a reservation?”
My ride was gone. I did want dinner. But two hours? The air smelled like bacon, though. My gut lurched in aching need for the smoky, meaty goodness, and—
“Dr. Hotwell!” A man loped up and grabbed my hand, pumping it up and down. “You look a little lost. Are you meeting someone?”
My concussion brain swam, trying to place the tall guy with the long, sun-bleached hair. “Dawsonside?”
“Dude! I can’t believe you remembered my name. You want to join us for dinner?” He aimed a thumb over his shoulder toward the plate-glass window-lined room. Every table was packed. “I bet you thought you could show up and eat. Not at Bacon.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on.” He pulled me into the depths of the room, where we paused at a table with a woman sitting facing the water. “Look who turned up, babe!”
I knew the waves of auburn hair in an instant. Slowly, her face turned toward me, her green eyes widening, catching the flickers of the candle’s flame.
She was on a date? With this guy? I hesitated. But then, she reacted, and I knew I should stay.
“Luke,” she breathed, her chest rising.
She wants me. I’m staying. I’m breaking up this date, and I’m going to be the one taking her home. Aside from the fact that I was Ride Along Dude tonight, not whisk-her-away-in-my-chariot hero.
“Dr. Hotwell is doing us the honor of joining us for dinner!” Dawsonside grabbed a stray chair from another table and sliding it into place beside her. He took that one and motioned for me to take the one across from Sheridan. “Go ahead. I’ll sit beside my girl.”
The slightest wince crossed her face.
I sat, pulling in close, so that my knees brushed hers beneath the small table. Sensations raced up my leg, culminating at a jolt somewhere near my heart.
The feeling from my dream! For a split-second, it flared up inside me, a firework’s burst—and then it faded.
My eyes met hers, locking in, holding tight.
Dawsonside was talking, but neither of us looked his way. Sheridan’s gaze penetrated a secret nook in my soul where my hesitations and fears hid, and with each slow blink of her long lashes, one by one, the fears released into the ether, freeing themselves.
Freeing me.
Up to now, I’d had no one close, other than my sister and parents, and it wasn’t the same. For Lola, Keith ranked first, as he should. Mom and Dad had each other first.
It was time—I wanted to be somebody to someone.
I want to be someone to her.
Sheridan’s ankle brushed mine, and I wanted nothing more than to skip all smoked meat products and grab her and take her out of here.
Her head jerked sideways at something Dawsonside said, breaking our gaze. “What?” she asked, alarm in her features.
“That my main Jane told me you are going to be the big reveal at the Quake Night thing. What’s your secret? You can tell me. I’m a lawyer. Privacy privileges apply.”
My spine straightened. “She’s not your client.”
“That’s right. She’s my girlfriend. That means, under the law, we are the same legal entity, so she can tell me.”
“That’s if you’re married, pal.” My appetite for bacon dissipated, replaced by irritation. “Quit trying to snow-job her.”
Sheridan’s heel dug into the top of my foot. “It’s fine, Luke. Dusty’s enthusiasm is charming.”
Charming. Ha! And, ouch. I pulled my foot back. She’d just kicked me with her toe.
“Jane is getting ahead of herself,” Sheridan said. “I haven’t told the committee yes yet.” She grimaced. “Public speaking and I don’t get along.”