Chapter 18 Bruno
brUNO
“Thank you so much for taking Gil,” Bruno said, already feeling guilty for the additional chaos he was bringing to Vivian’s house.
There was a young golden retriever trying to climb up his leg, Shane was shrieking for the puppy, and Tara was watching the action with a disapproving frown from behind the edge of the couch.
“IT’S A PUPPY!” Gil crowed.
“It’s my puppy,” Tara protested quietly. “His name is Lucky.”
When Bruno pushed Lucky gently down, he did a rambunctious lap of the room and nearly bowled Gil over on his return trip.
“A PUPPY!” Gil abandoned his backpack and tackled the dog.
“It’s my puppy!” Tara whispered, near tears.
Shane yelled for attention and Vivian said loudly, “Who wants to take the puppy outside to play?”
“You are a saint,” Bruno said. “I owe you.”
“Shifter parents have to look out for each other,” Vivian said serenely as half of the household tumbled out the back door. “I understand you’re going out with Veronica’s assistant. Do you think that’s…wise?”
“I’m not dating Veronica,” Bruno pointed out defensively.
“No, of course not,” Vivian said. “I didn’t mean to pry. She’s just asked a lot of uncomfortable questions about shifters. It’s possible that she’s setting Clarice up to spy on you.”
Bruno had considered that possibility, very seriously.
It was hard enough dating as the single dad of a very active boy.
The fact that he had secrets to protect, both his and Gil’s, complicated things even more.
But instinct continued to insist that this was fine, that Gil was safe, that everything was happening like it was supposed to.
Sometimes, the longest line at the store moved the fastest.
“I’ll be careful,” Bruno promised. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her that his instinct was on board. Vivian wasn’t a shifter herself, and Bruno didn’t know how much she understood it. He remembered all over again why he’d sworn he wouldn’t date someone who wasn’t a shifter.
She suddenly swiveled, as if supernaturally aware of the toddler behind her reaching for the back doorknob. “Shane, honey, you need boots to go outside!”
“Thanks again!” Bruno latched the door behind him as Vivian chased down the toddler with footwear.
He took a deep breath and got into his truck to drive to the restaurant.
Clarice’s car was already parked out front, but Bruno didn’t recognize her at first when he went inside.
She wasn’t wearing glasses or a sweater. Her hair had been curled and styled, held back by invisible pins instead of colorful barrettes. Her dress was a shimmery dark green that made her hair look more golden than before, and her eyes, when she turned to greet him, looked hazel.
Even the planes of her cheeks were unfamiliar, and Bruno had to search her face to find the Clarice he had come here to meet.
She was still there, in the hesitant smile and the self-conscious, apologetic way that she handed the white wool coat she’d taken off to the hostess.
“Hi,” Bruno said, feeling rather bowled over and underdressed wearing jeans and a button-up shirt.
“Hi!” she said eagerly back. “You look great!”
“You look…amazing.”
Only Clarice’s ears colored, suggesting that she was wearing makeup over the rest of her face. “Thank you. Veronica helped me get ready.”
Veronica. Bruno remembered Vivian’s gentle concern, but it was hard to believe that Clarice could possibly be a part of her machinations.
“Your table is this way,” the hostess said, leading them into the restaurant.
Bruno wasn’t surprised that they attracted a certain amount of notice from the other diners; Clarice looked like a curvy celebrity on a red carpet.
Their table was nicely out of the way of the rest of the restaurant, and Bruno held the chair for Clarice. The centerpiece was Christmas themed, with a fake candle flickering a little too perfectly.
“Oh, wow. Thank you. Gosh, this is so fancy!”
Bruno sat down opposite her and put his napkin in his lap before he could forget to.
“Can I get you started with some drinks?” the hostess asked.
“Oh no,” Clarice said. “I mean, I’d better not. I can barely walk in these heels as it is.”
Bruno waffled. A beer would be good, and he knew that the relaxing aspects of alcohol would be welcome, but he didn’t want to be the only one drinking. “Root beer,” he said firmly.
“Oh, I didn’t even think about a soda,” Clarice laughed nervously. “I’d love a ginger ale. Please.”
When the hostess had gone to take their order to the bar, Clarice played with her napkin.
“I don’t drink a lot. Of booze, I mean. I’m kind of a lightweight.
Not that I’m really lightweight. And I have to drive home, of course.
Not that I couldn’t drive home after one drink and a whole meal.
But I like to play it safe. Arrive alive! ”
“Better safe than sorry,” Bruno agreed. “You look great.”
It was odd to see her eyes without glasses, and they were larger and brighter than Bruno had expected.
He wasn’t sure how much of that was the magic of makeup, but she looked unsettlingly different and he found that he liked her both ways.
Her dress had a low enough neckline that it was an effort not to let his gaze drift down.
“It’s a thrift store find,” Clarice said, tugging on one of the shoulders.
“Las Vegas has some amazing second hand stores. Lots of show costumes, of course, but also plenty of fancy clothes. I always wonder if someone pawned something this nice because they lost all their money gambling. I like to make up stories about some of the things I find. Sorry, it’s silly. ”
“I think it’s charming,” Bruno said honestly. “Maybe it was owned by a foreign duchess who fell in love with a male escort in Las Vegas and sold her wardrobe to elope with him.”
Clarice gave a laugh of pure delight. “Maybe they got married by Elvis and moved to Ohio, where they now have seven kids. Do you think she has regrets?”
“No,” Bruno said confidently. “She’s still madly in love and is a soccer mom and member of the PTA. She’d be very glad that her gown was being worn on a first date in Montana, now.”
Clarice smoothed it down over her lap. “I love it!”
Bruno couldn’t help but watch her over the top of his menu as they discussed the meal options. When she let go of her nervousness, she was funny and quick-witted.
“Good evening! I’m Theo and I’ll be your…
waiter tonight.” The little hiccup was as the man put their drinks down and recognized Bruno.
Theo was the father of Darius and Jackson, and one of his clients.
Bruno told himself this wouldn’t make things awkward at all, then realized that Clarice’s ears were bright red again.
Theo was very handsome, he thought jealously.
“Do you need a little more time with the menu?” Theo asked lightly.
“I’d appreciate that,” Bruno said before he thought to consult with Clarice.
She took a sip of ginger ale as Theo left, coughed, and laughed awkwardly. “Bubbles!”
Bruno studied the menu while she caught her breath.
“I had to look up the menu in advance,” Clarice admitted. “I like to come prepared. I had completely settled on the asparagus-stuffed chicken breast, but now that I’m here, the shrimp pasta looks so good.”
Bruno selected a roast pork dish and Clarice decided on the shrimp.
“You said you liked to cook,” Bruno said, after their orders had been taken. “What do you like to cook best?”
“Baking is probably my favorite,” Clarice said. “Brownies. Cookies. Sourdough bread. My sourdough’s name is Frank, short for Frankenstein.”
“I love that,” Bruno said honestly. “The only things I bake are the biscuits in tubes and frozen pizzas.” Food was a safe conversation topic.
Bruno frequently started his sessions with the harmless subject.
He recalled his promise not to diagnose her.
Did using professional techniques for conversation starters count?
Could he ever truly turn the shrink part of his brain off? Tracy certainly didn’t think he could.
“Sorry,” Clarice said, just as Bruno was feeling guilty for thinking about his ex. “I just…I’m really sure I met our waiter in Las Vegas. He was hired for a birthday party I was at.”
Bruno had been taking a sip of his root beer and he nearly spit it out. “Theo is a—?”
“Not a stripper,” Clarice hastened to explain.
“He was just an escort. He made sure no one got separated from the party at the casino or taken advantage of while looking like arm candy. He probably made a hundred dollars in tips off of all the tipsy girls. I doubt he recognizes me. I’d be mortified. This is so awkward!”
Bruno could not help but laugh. “Well, I’ve been not only his shrink, but also his teen son’s so I probably win if there’s an awkward competition.” That much wasn’t violating any confidentiality, and he knew that it would set Clarice at ease…and he was right.
“Oh, I love the idea of an awkward competition,” Clarice said with a giggle. “That’s one I could take a gold trophy home from any day.”
Bruno didn’t think about his ex again the whole evening, or worry about analyzing Clarice. She was a delightful dinner companion, a perfect mix of silly and serious, matching his energy at every turn.
She was a middle child between two sisters and had grown up outside of Las Vegas. Bruno was an only child with distant parents.
“I’ll trade you,” Clarice offered. “Mine want to be involved in everything. I’m not sure Montana was far enough to move. I should have gone to Alaska.”
They talked about traveling, agreeing that the idea was nice, but it was much easier to stay comfortably home. Bruno had been to Hawaii a few times, Clarice had driven through Canada.
“What made you decide to be a therapist?” Clarice wanted to know after their meals had been served.
“I’ve always wanted to help people. My dad was on the city council and my parents wanted me to be a politician, but it only took a semester of student body in high school to realize that the higher you go, the more ineffective you are. This seemed like a more personal way make a difference.”
“I bet it sort of isolates you at the same time, though,” Clarice said, picking up a shrimp by the tail delicately. “Because you have to be professional all the time.”
Bruno gazed at her in surprise. It had taken him a long time to realize that his career, while fulfilling, had always felt like it set him apart from others and incapable of being a friend. “I bet you’d be a good therapist.”
Clarice laughed, wiping her fingers on her napkin.
“I’d be awful at it. I’m too nice about everything.
Sorry! Not that you have to be mean to be a therapist, I’m not saying that, oh, see, I’m making my own point!
I would apologize all the time and never make anyone do anything hard like a therapist should.
Not that a therapist should make things hard.
Oh no!” Her ears were flushed and Bruno knew that she’d caught her own accidental innuendo.
With every little smile and laugh, he found himself more and more sure that she was someone he’d been waiting for.
Someone who complemented him perfectly. She was funny and thoughtful.
All her physical cues suggested that she found him interesting and attractive, and he certainly reciprocated that feeling.
She was so curvy in all the right places, and her face was so expressive.
He could drown in those eyes, and he was dying to kiss those red lips.