Chapter 27
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Mia asked Caleb as he pulled out of her drive. All he told her was to wear something special.
It’d taken her all of five seconds of searching her closet to find the perfect dress.
She pulled the navy-blue chiffon from the back of her closet.
The hem angled slightly longer in the back, shorter in front, with short flutter sleeves, a scoop neckline and a subtle slit that showed just enough leg when she moved.
She had bought it years ago to wear to the opera when she had lived in New York City.
But that night she’d fallen ill and never had a chance.
Until now.
Tonight, she paired it with delicate metallic strappy heels. After a touch of makeup and pulling her hair into a low chignon, she studied her reflection and nodded.
Polished. Feminine. Sexy.
She hoped Caleb liked it.
Judging by the low wolf whistle he let out when she stepped onto the porch, he definitely did.
But then she really looked at him.
He wasn’t in work boots or a faded T-shirt. He wore dark slacks, a crisp button-down and a tailored charcoal jacket that sharpened his broad shoulders without making him look stiff. Clean lines. Perfect fit. The sleeves hit just right.
The kind of jacket she liked. On a man she really liked.
Her gaze lingered longer than she meant to.
“You clean up well,” she said, the same way she had on their last date.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, you’re worth it.”
The words caught her off guard. Warmth crept up her neck, and for a second she forgot to breathe.
He opened the passenger door for her. “We have reservations at The Fisherman’s Wife.”
“Oh!” Mia exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to go there. I heard reservations were hard to get.”
“I know a guy who knows a guy,” he teased.
Mia laughed as she slid into the seat. “Guys are good to know.”
It didn’t take them long to get to the restaurant. Their conversation was comfortable in that quiet way that didn’t feel awkward or forced.
When Caleb pulled up to the entrance and handed his keys to the valet, Mia barely noticed. She noticed the lights.
Thousands of small lights lined the walkway, twinkling in the dark like something straight from a storybook.
She stopped short. “It looks like a fairyland,” she said softly. “I can’t wait to see inside.”
Caleb smiled and opened the door for her.
The moment she stepped inside, Mia felt it. The room wrapped around her in warmth, in color that felt intentional instead of loud. The deep oranges and browns grounded her.
The space was elegant but unpretentious. White tablecloths softened the room. Candles flickered gently at the center of each table. Fresh greenery nestled around the glass holders. Nothing flashy. Nothing trying too hard.
Soft baroque music played in the background, low enough to invite conversation rather than compete with it. Mia breathed in. The scent of olive oil and herbs lingered in the air, familiar and comforting.
Caleb gave the ma?tre d’ his name, and they were guided past tables spaced far enough apart to feel private, toward the water. His hand was warm at her back.
Their table was underneath a window, the lake still visible as the last of the daylight shimmered across the surface.
Mia slid into her chair and let out a slow breath.
This was exactly the kind of night she hadn’t known she’d been missing.
Menus were placed in front of them. Big, heavy, leather-bound menus.
“Wow,” Mia said, perusing the menu. “They have items on here I haven’t had in a while. I didn’t know Haywood Lake was that sophisticated.”
“What looks good to you?” he asked.
“Well,” she said. “It’s a toss-up between the polpo alla griglia or crudo di branzino.”
He looked at the menu. “I never figured you to be an octopus lover.”
“I had it in Italy, and it was delicious,” she replied. “What about you?”
“Carpaccio,” he said.
Mia nodded.
The server approached just as she closed the menu. “Good evening. May I answer any questions and take your drink order?”
Caleb looked at her. “Wine or cocktail?”
“I’ll have an Americano,” Mia said, then turned back to the server. “Is the octopus grilled or braised first?”
“Braised, then finished on the grill.”
“Perfect,” she said. “I’ll start with that.”
“For you, sir?”
“Bourbon neat, then the carpaccio. We’ll order after.”
“Very good,” the server replied. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
They both stared out at the fading light. At the twinkling lights on the patio. “It’s so peaceful here,” she said.
A soft breeze stirred the air, carrying the soft clink of glasses and low conversation from nearby tables.
The server returned with a small tray.
Mia’s Americano was set down first. Tall glass. Clear ice. A curl of orange on the rim.
Caleb’s bourbon followed. Lowball. No garnish.
She lifted her glass and took a sip. Bitter, sharp, refreshing. “Hmm. That’s good.”
Caleb watched her over the rim of his glass as he took his first swallow. He nodded once. “Does what it’s supposed to.”
She smiled. “You say that like it matters.”
“It does,” he replied. “In drinks. In people.”
She tipped her drink toward his. “To things that do.”
He met it with a quiet clink.
Their gazes held for a second too long before Mia looked away, her pulse humming. She took a slow sip, letting the cool bite of the drink anchor her.
This night was already asking more of her than she’d planned to give.
The server returned with their appetizers. He set Mia’s plate down first.
The octopus was sliced neatly, charred enough, arranged over a white bean puree with a drizzle of citrus oil and a scatter of capers.
Mia inhaled. “Oh, that’s done right.”
Caleb smiled. “You can tell already?”
“From here,” she said as she cut a piece and took a bite, closing her eyes for a brief second. “Tender. Smoky. Balanced.” She glanced at his plate.
His carpaccio followed. Paper-thin beef, ruby-red against a white plate, dressed simply with olive oil, lemon, cracked pepper and shaved Parmigiano.
Caleb picked up his fork, tasted it and nodded. “Perfect.”
He cut a bit and handed her his fork. Her brows lifted. “Excellent.”
She returned the favor with a piece of octopus. Their fingers brushed. Brief. Electric.
He chewed and nodded. “I can see why you ordered it.”
She smiled. “Told you.”
Their entrées arrived soon after.
Mia’s tagliatelle glistened, ribbons of pasta coated in truffle butter. Caleb’s steak was perfectly charred.
They ate without talking much. A shared glance here, a smile there.
By the time the plates were cleared, the candle between them had burned low, and the air felt warm and intimate, heavy with unspoken words.
Mia leaned back slightly. “Dessert?”
Caleb smiled. “Definitely.”
The server returned. “Can I interest you in dessert?”
Mia didn’t even look at the menu. “Affogato,” she said. “Table-side.”
The server nodded. “Of course.” And disappeared.
Caleb watched her, amused. “You don’t hesitate.”
She smiled. “Some things don’t need debating.”
His gaze lingered. “I’m starting to see that.”
The affogato arrived: vanilla gelato in a chilled glass, a small silver pot of espresso steaming beside it. The server poured the brew slowly over the gelato, the scent rich and intoxicating.
Mia inhaled. “This never gets old.”
She picked up her spoon, scooped through the melting edges and tasted it.
“Oh,” she murmured.
Caleb’s jaw tightened. “That good?”
She held the spoon out toward him. “Come closer.”
He didn’t reach for it. He leaned in.
Close enough that his knee brushed hers under the table. Close enough, she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough to see his blue eyes darken as his lips closed around it.
Slow. Deliberate.
Mia’s pulse raced.
Caleb swallowed, eyes never leaving hers. “That might be unfair.”
She smiled. “You didn’t complain.”
He reached out and took the spoon from her. “Your turn,” he murmured.
He scooped another bite and held it toward her. She leaned in, her lips closing around the spoon, her breath brushing his knuckles.
Neither of them pulled back right away.
“This,” he said softly, “is dangerous.”
“So is denying it.”
His thumb traced the inside of her wrist. “We’re still in public.”
She tilted her head. “Then you should probably stop touching me like that.”
He didn’t.
“Or,” he said with a smile, “you could tell me you want me to stop.”
“I’d be lying.”
His thumb pressed a moment more. A promise. A warning.
The espresso continued to melt the gelato, pooling together and impossible to separate.
Caleb finally leaned back. “We should leave.”
“Because of dessert?”
“No,” he said. “Because if we stay, I’m going to forget how to behave.”
Her smile turned soft. “Then I suppose we should go.”
But neither of them moved just yet.
Caleb exhaled slowly, forcing himself to put a little space between them. Dinner wasn’t turning out exactly as he had planned. It was better, and his body noticed long before his brain caught up.
“Want to go back to my place for a while?” he asked.
Mia thought for a second. “I’d love to. I need to shoot my dad a text so he doesn’t worry.”
“Good idea.” He nodded. “At least he doesn’t know where I live. I can just imagine him showing up with a shotgun, ready to have a talk.”
“Oh?” She fiddled with her napkin. “You planning on giving him a reason?”
Caleb leaned back in his chair, his eyes warm, a corner of his mouth lifting as he gave her a wink. “Only if you ask.”
Mia blushed a perfect shade of pink and licked her lips.
He took care of the check the server had just placed down and stood, holding out his hand. She took it without hesitation.
They walked out of the restaurant shoulder to shoulder, fingers still laced, the night air cool against the heat simmering between them.
The valet pulled up with the car, jolting Mia just enough for reality to slip back in. She loosened her grip on Caleb’s hand, surprised at how reluctant she was to let go.
Caleb reached for the key, his thumb brushing over Mia’s knuckles as he did. The small contact stirred something low and warm inside her.
“Ready?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah.”
He tipped his chin toward the road. “I’ve got a cabin on the campus of the Brotherhood. It’s quiet. We could put on some music, have a little wine, just relax. No expectations.”
She studied him for a minute. He wasn’t pushing. Just standing there, open and a little vulnerable. That mattered more than she expected.
“Okay.”
Relief flickered across his face. The corner of his mouth lifted, slow and unmistakably pleased. “Okay.”