23. Chapter Twenty-Three
I’m standing out front of the Travelodge when the car Rose sent to pick me up pulls up to the front door, and an overly eager driver in a suit and hat jumps out.
“Mr. Carter?” he says, opening the rear passenger door.
“That’d be me.” I give a friendly smile despite feeling like a fish out of water. “But please, call me Henry.”
“Yes, sir. Henry, it is.”
I slide into the backseat, but before I can look for the seatbelt, I feel a strange cooling sensation against my jeans and look up at the driver.
“I think there might be something wrong with these seats. Almost feels like there’s a rip that’s letting the air in.”
“A rip, sir?” He looks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language, and I stare back blankly until it’s clear we’re on the same page. “Ah, yes. I believe you’re referring to the air-conditioned seats. Rest assured that everything is adjustable to your comfort level. You’ll find a remote in the center console where you can make any necessary adjustments.”
“Well, isn’t that something?” As the words come out, I remind myself that I’ll need to be more Robert Redford and less Jed Clampett if I’m going to survive dinner.
When we pull up to Prime and Vine Steakhouse, the building looks more like a castle than a place to eat. I reach for the door handle when Eric, the driver, protests.
“Please, Henry. Allow me.” He opens the driver’s side door, but I stop him when he’s about to get out.
“That won’t be necessary, friend. I’ll take it from here.”
My boots thud on the fancy tile floor as I walk through the door, and the moment I spot her in her extravagant cocktail dress, I realize that even in my nicest pair of blue jeans and collared button-down, I’m still underdressed for the occasion.
But Rose, sitting there at a table next to a giant window in the back, is like a breath of fresh air. She has her hair in some elaborate updo, and I can’t take my eyes off the delicate lines of her neck, just begging to be kissed.
“Wow, Rose,” I say, my palms sweating. “You look stunning. I was afraid they might throw me out for being dressed like this.”
“Hey, Henry.” She greets me with a smile that could light up the city. “You look very handsome, I’ll have you know. You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
I go in for a hug, but it’s all elbows and nerves, and we end up laughing at the awkwardness of it all. I’m leather, and she’s all lace. But maybe that’s what makes being with her feel so right. She’s the kind of woman who knows exactly how to bring out the best parts of a man like me.
I sit across from her, my eyes darting over the menu like a calf in a new pasture. Words like “confit” and “tartare” have me scratching my head, so I decide to play it safe when the waiter comes around to take our order.
“Uh, I’ll have the ribeye, but um… what are pomme frittes?” I say, stumbling over the words.
“It’s just a fancy way of saying french fries,” Rose chuckles.
“Right, right, french fries.” I correct myself with sheepish smile, feeling a familiar tug at my heartstrings when I hear her laugh.
“And I’ll have the salmon with the lemon caper sauce and a side of charred leeks and asparagus, please.”
The waiter nods before taking our menus and vanishing into the kitchen, and I know it’s time to swallow my pride.
“Rose, I need to apologize for not calling you back.” Her expression turns serious, and I feel an urge to wipe my palms on my jeans. “All these rumors going around Sugar Plum got so out of hand that I thought giving you space was the right thing to do.”
She looks at me, head tilted, with a landscape of emotions playing in her eyes like a silent movie. I can’t read them all, but I get the sense she wants the whole story.
“Is that the only reason?” There’s a softness in her voice that’s disarming, and we sit silently while I collect my thoughts.
“Truth is,” I confess, leaning forward, “I was scared, Rose. Every time I think I’ve got something good… the world has a way of taking it away from me. So, I guess I pulled away to protect myself, which, I know, was extremely selfish of me.”
Her hand pauses halfway to her glass, and her gaze is steady on mine.
“Rose, you mean more to me than I may ever be willing to admit, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there for you. I want to be a better man—a better friend. And maybe, if I’m lucky, something more down the road if you think you could ever trust me again.”
The words hang between us, and I can almost see them like fireflies on a hot July night, flickering with hope and redemption.
Rose exhales slowly, her eyes locked on mine in a stalemate. The ambiance of the steakhouse hums around us, but we might as well be alone in a desert for all I care.
“Apology accepted,” she says, smoothing out a crease on the white tablecloth. “And I appreciate you being honest, even if it means letting your guard down. I know it’s hard, but it means a lot to me that you’re willing to try.”
Her fingers trace patterns on the linen, and I find myself wishing they were tracing my palm instead. But I sit tight, knowing now isn’t the time for bold moves.
“However,” she continues, but this time in a measured voice, “I want to be sure we’re on the same page moving forward. I can’t jump from one relationship right into another. I need time to figure things out—time to breathe.” She pauses, her gaze shifting out the window to the city lights. “That’s partly why I’m considering taking this job.”
“Rose.” I reach across the table until my fingers are just shy of hers. “I understand. And I can be that person for you—the one who gives you space and supports your decisions.”
She looks back at me, and there’s a hint of what I can only hope is relief in her eyes.
“Tell you what,” I suggest, trying to lighten the mood. “How about I stay for the rest of the week, and we can explore the city together when you’re not working? No strings attached, and no more shared hotel rooms, either. Just two friends enjoying each other’s company. What do you say?”
“No strings attached? Really?” Her tone is laced with skepticism, but there’s a playful smile on her lips that wasn’t there before.
“You have my word that I’ll only think about kissing you. Besides,“ I chuckle, leaning back in my chair with newfound confidence, “I reckon it’s about time I see the ocean.”
“Okay,” Rose nods, a sparkle of mischief in her eye. “But just be warned, Carter. The city’s a far cry from country life. You think you can handle it?”
“Sweetheart,” I grin, feeling the comical side of me rise to the challenge, “I’ve wrangled sheep tougher than most of these city slickers.”
“Then it’s a date,” she declares. My heart soars at the word, even though I know she doesn’t mean it the way I want her to.
“Deal,” I agree. “And Rose,” I add, more seriously. “If you do decide to spread your wings and make the move... I hope you know I’ll be cheering you on every step of the way. Even if it means missing you every day you’re gone.”
Her smile is soft and genuine, and for a moment, I feel like the richest man in the world—not because of the success I’ve had with the ranch or anything else money could buy, but because of the trust slowly rebuilding between us.