Chapter 4 #2
"You hungry?" he asks abruptly. "There's a place on the way to the lodge. Better than the diner if you want something more substantial than a sandwich."
Is he asking me to dinner? The thought makes my pulse quicken. "I could eat," I say, trying to sound casual.
"Good." He nods, looking almost relieved. "It's just up here."
The restaurant turns out to be a small Italian place tucked between a bookstore and a gift shop. Warm light spills from the windows, and the scent of garlic and tomato sauce greets us as we enter.
"Diesel!" The host, an older man with a thick Italian accent, greets him with enthusiasm. "Twice in one month! What's the special occasion?"
"Just hungry, Paolo." Diesel nods toward me. "Table for two?"
"Of course, of course." Paolo leads us to a corner booth, lighting the small candle in the center with a flourish. "Your usual table."
Once we're seated, I raise an eyebrow. "Your usual table? I thought you didn't do frills."
A hint of color touches his cheeks. "Food's good," he says defensively. "And Paolo doesn't make small talk."
"Mmm-hmm." I hide my smile behind the menu. "So what's good here?"
"Everything. But the lasagna's exceptional."
I close the menu. "Lasagna it is, then."
We order wine with dinner, a rich red that warms me from the inside out.
The conversation flows more easily than I expected, ranging from books we've read to places we've traveled.
Diesel is surprisingly well-read, with strong opinions on everything from classic literature to modern engineering manuals.
"No way," I argue, laughing. "Hemingway is not overrated. The man revolutionized American prose."
"By eliminating adjectives?" Diesel scoffs, but there's amusement in his eyes. "Any writer who needs to rely on a gimmick isn't as good as people claim."
"That's rich coming from a man who communicates primarily in grunts and glares," I tease.
He chuckles, the sound warming something in my chest. "Fair point. But I never claimed to be a good communicator."
"I don't know about that," I say, swirling the last of my wine. "You seem to get your point across just fine."
Our eyes meet over the candle, and I swear the air charges between us. The playful debate fades, replaced by a tension that makes it hard to breathe. His gaze drops to my lips for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes.
"Sandra," he says, voice lower than before.
"Yes?" My own voice sounds breathless even to my ears.
He seems to struggle with what to say next. "I don't usually do this."
"Do what?" I ask, though I think I know.
"Mix business with..." He gestures between us. "This."
"And what is 'this' exactly?" I'm pushing him, I know, but I need to hear him say it.
He leans forward, the candlelight casting shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. "I'm not sure yet. But I'd like to find out."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "Me too."
The moment stretches between us, electric with possibility. Diesel reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine. His hand is rough with calluses, warm and strong as it covers mine.
"You're only here temporarily," he says, more to himself than to me. "Until the car's fixed."
"Maybe. Maybe not." I turn my hand over to link our fingers. "I inherited a cabin, remember? I could stick around. See if Crimson Hollow grows on me."
Something like hope flickers in his eyes. "And has it? Started to grow on you?"
"Parts of it," I admit, squeezing his hand. "Definitely parts of it."
Paolo appears with the check, breaking the moment. Diesel insists on paying, waving away my protests with a firm shake of his head.
"My invitation, my treat," he says in a tone that brooks no argument.
Outside, the night has grown colder, stars glittering overhead in a clear sky. Our breath forms clouds in the frosty air as we walk toward The Mountain Lodge. Diesel's hand finds mine again, our fingers intertwining naturally.
"I had a good time tonight," I say, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Me too." He glances at me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Better than I expected."
"Such high praise," I laugh. "Be careful, or I might think you actually like me."
He stops walking, turning to face me. His expression is serious, intense in a way that makes my breath catch. "I do like you, Sandra. More than I probably should."
Before I can respond, he reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His touch lingers, fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. I lean into his hand, unable to help myself.
"Diesel," I whisper, not sure what I'm asking for.
He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body in the cold night air. His gaze drops to my lips again, and this time, there's no mistaking his intention. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.
He leans in, and I tilt my face up to meet him, anticipation coiling low in my belly.
A car horn blares as it passes, startling us both. Diesel steps back, the moment shattered. Frustration flashes across his face before he schools his expression.
"We should get you back to the lodge," he says, voice rough. "It's getting late."
I nod, disappointment a physical ache in my chest. "Yeah, okay."
We resume walking, his hand still holding mine, but the easy atmosphere from dinner has shifted. Tension crackles between us, unresolved and electric.
At the entrance to The Mountain Lodge, we pause again. Light spills from the windows, illuminating Diesel's face as he looks down at me.
"Thanks for dinner," I say, reluctant to let the night end.
"My pleasure." His thumb traces circles on my palm, sending shivers up my arm. "I'll see you tomorrow? At the garage?"
"Definitely." I gather my courage and rise on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, Diesel."
His breath catches, and for a moment, I think he might pull me back for a real kiss. Instead, he squeezes my hand once more before releasing it.
"Goodnight, Sandra," he says softly.
I watch him walk away, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the starlit sky. Tonight didn't end how I hoped, but the almost-kiss lingers in my mind, a promise of what might come. Tomorrow is another day. Another chance.
And suddenly, I'm very glad my car broke down in Crimson Hollow.