Chapter 2
TWO
WADE
It’s hard not to stare. And harder still to remember to breathe.
My date is even more beautiful in real life than she was in her photos.
Hell, she isn’t just beautiful—she’s stunning. So gorgeous, I almost don’t recognize her when I enter the restaurant.
Her long brown hair tumbles over her shoulders, catching the light from the open windows. Her smile curves across soft pink lips, and when her bright blue eyes meet mine, I feel the hit low and hard, right in the chest.
She’s wearing a short floral dress, the kind that moves when she shifts, brushing against her thighs. It hugs her curves just enough to tease without being obvious. She’s curvier than her photos hinted at—so much better than the filters and angles could ever show.
You apparently can’t tell much about a person from a dating profile.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I whisper.
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her lips part in surprise. Those incredible blue eyes widen slightly.
Damn it. I’m blowing this already.
I knew I was rusty. I told my buddies that. Told myself that, too. But they were right. It was time to get back out there. Even if it felt awkward. Even if every step toward tonight felt like walking blindfolded on a narrow, rocky mountain path.
Clearing my throat, I step forward and offer her my hand. "Sorry I’m late. I got a little turned around. I don’t come to town often.”
She blinks up at me, long lashes fluttering like they could create a breeze, and places her hand in mine.
A spark jumps from her soft, warm skin to mine, lighting a fire in my veins.
"That’s okay…” she says, voice trailing off in a breathy note that goes straight to my head.
"Wade," I say quickly, needing to anchor myself in something before I make an ass of myself. “I’m Wade. It’s good to meet you."
Remembering the advice from my friends, I cobble together a compliment. “Your pictures on the app, well, they don’t do you justice, Tonya."
“Tonya. I’m Tonya. You’re Wade." She repeats our names like she’s trying them out. She must be nervous too.
"I'm sorry, but actually—" she starts, a little hesitation in her voice.
Before she can finish, the bartender, a redhead with a knowing smirk, cuts in.
"Tonya’s already had a couple drinks while she was waiting for you," she says. "First date jitters and all. But I have a feeling you two are going to have a great night."
Tonya shoots the bartender a quick, sharp look, some silent conversation passing between them.
I watch it unfold, a little confused, but mostly charmed.
If I had to guess, maybe she’s just got cold feet. The bartender’s trying to help her through it.
I can help, too. I want to help.
Now that I’m standing here, now that I’ve seen her, I don’t want the night to end before it’s even started.
Suddenly, my date turns her full attention back to me. Her grip on my hand tightens, and that tiny movement jolts something awake inside my chest.
"Hi." She moistens her lips, her voice gaining strength. "It’s nice to meet you."
All the blood rushes from my head and pools in my dick. I’m once again struck dumb.
Thankfully, the bartender steps in to save me again. "Your table is ready. The hostess will seat you."
Reluctantly releasing her hand, I fight the urge to place a guiding palm on the small of her back as we follow the hostess. I want to touch her again—God, I really want to—but I don’t want her to think this is just about looks.
I want this to be real.
At the table, I pull out her chair. She pauses, brows lifting.
"Is this okay?" I ask, worried I’ve misread the situation already.
"It’s...very okay." A short laugh escapes her. "I’m just surprised. I thought chivalry was dead."
I smile awkwardly and sit down across from her.
"Not dead," I say, reaching for my napkin and trying not to fidget. "Just...hibernating. Like the rest of us after a long winter."
Her smile grows, a little softer, a little warmer. “Here’s to spring, then.”
Our menus arrive, and we fall into an easy rhythm, ordering a couple of spring specials—salmon for her, elk for me. The restaurant is still riding the edge of tourist season. So it’s busy but not overwhelming.
The sunlight lingers outside, stretching the evening into something that feels endless and golden.
"I have to admit," I say once the server leaves, "it’s been a while since I’ve done this. A first date , I mean."
She lifts a brow, curious. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Like… it’s been years." I laugh under my breath. "Back when dates were usually dinner and a movie. Not swiping on an app to meet your match."
"You’re doing fine so far.”
I grin, feeling several feet taller. It gives me the confidence. Casually, I reach into my pocket and withdraw a small pile of index cards.
Keeping them hidden on my lap, I ask the first question: “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”
She pretends to ponder it seriously, tapping a finger to her chin. "Somewhere warm. Where winter doesn’t last seven months. Preferably with beaches. Like Hawaii or the French Riviera.”
“So you’re saying you want to leave Alaska?”
“No, of course not. This place has my heart.” She flashes another smile. “But the grass is always greener, you know?”
“Fair enough.”
She tilts her head. “How about you?”
Oh. I hadn’t expected her to turn the question on me.
“Anywhere with space," I say after a beat. "Big skies. Quiet. But near someone who wants to be there with me."
Her smile softens, and I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. I flip to the next card. "Favorite season?"
"Spring," she answers immediately. "It feels like starting over. Yours?"
I grin. "Spring too. Especially after a winter up here."
Her eyes light up and my gut clenches.
I glance at the next card. "What’s your go-to karaoke song?"
She scoffs. "I don’t do karaoke," she says. “I mean, unless I’m really tipsy. But when I do, I usually go for a classic. Like ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman!’"
I bark out a surprised laugh. "I’d pay good money to see that."
"You’d have to,” she challenges. “And you’d have to go first. What would you be singing?”
I pretend to consider it seriously. "Probably ‘Friends in Low Places.’ Something that usually gets the rest of the bar to sing, so no one can hear how bad I sound.”
She laughs again. It’s a sound so joyful, so rich, it’s fuel for my soul.
I “glance down at the next card. “If you could have dinner with any historical figure, who would it be and why?”
She squints at me. “This is starting to feel like a job interview.”
I freeze. Shit.
She leans closer, lowering her voice.v”Because if it is, I demand to know the benefits package."
I chuckle, relaxing slightly.
"I, uh, might’ve come a little… prepared.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Wait a second. Are you pulling these questions off your phone?"
“Not exactly.” I sheepishly pull the small stack of cards from my lap and set them face-down on the table.
She stares at them and then at me. The back of my neck starts sweating and I resist the urge to tug at my type. “You actually made a list."
“In my defense,” I clear my throat, “my friends' wives helped me come up with them.”
“That’s… smart, and honestly kind of sweet.” Sparkles dance in her eyes. “It shows you care, and I like that.”
I swallow and wait to see what happens next. She reaches for the cards, and I hand them to her. She picks up the top card and studies it closely.
“‘What’s your favorite pizza topping?’” She nods thoughtfully. "Very important to know.”
"Hey, it’s an important topic," I protest.
"Agreed." She sets the card down, resting her chin in her palm again. "But I think it’s my turn now."
She leans closer across the table, her scent hitting me—something soft and floral and a little wild.
God, she’s something.
And smart. And funny.
And… she’s so damn real.
She taps her finger against the tabletop. "Let’s see… if you could be do anything in the world, what would you be doing?”
“I’d be right here doing this,” I answer without thinking.
The truth of it stuns me as much as it seems to stun her.
Her eyes widen slightly, her cheeks coloring a soft pink. My dick twitches. I want her.
Not just in the way that makes my body ache. I want to know her.
I want to make her smile again and again until it’s the most natural thing in the world. I lean back slightly, fighting the urge to reach for her hand.
“Okay,” she clears her throat, her voice gone a little husky. “Next question... are you a dog person or a cat person?”
"Dogs," I say immediately. "Big, sloppy ones that think they’re lapdogs."
She laughs again. “Good answer.”
I barely notice when the server clears our plates, or when the low murmur of the restaurant shifts into something quieter.
The world has narrowed to her. The way she laughs. The way she teases me.
The way she looks at me like maybe she feels it too.
After another round of drinks, and dozens of questions, my sides heart from laughing.
I also notice her squirming in her seat. It’s subtle at first. A little shift here, a tug at the hem of her dress there. But soon, it’s clear she doesn’t want to be there. Even if her words suggest otherwise.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Are you okay?”
Her cheeks flush, and she leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice. “It’s the underwear.”
I blink. “Sorry?"
She hides her face with a napkin for a moment before peeking up at me. “The underwear I’m wearing. It’s…not exactly comfortable.”
Heat rushes through me, setting every nerve in my body on fire. God, she’s adorable. And sexy as hell.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in even closer, voice low.”Maybe, you should take them off.”