“What are you getting?” she finally asked, looking up from the lengthy menu. Confusion twisted her adorable features, and I chuckled before answering.
“I thought you were jonesing for fish tacos?” I reminded instead of actually answering the question she asked.
“But they have so many delicious-looking things. Now I can’t decide.”
“I had a feeling this was going to happen the minute I saw the size of the menu.”
“Sean always says the—”
Well, shit.
After cutting herself off midsentence, she was prisoner to a wide, terrified stare. First, she just looked at me with those incredibly expressive eyes, as if I held the balm that would relieve the pain she’d just rekindled. Then my girl darted her gaze to every corner of the room, as if expecting her late husband’s ghost to arrive at one of the entrances and ask to be seated at our table. A pained sound escaped, even though she tried to press her lips together in a seam.
“Okay, Blaze. Breathe.” I said the words as conversationally as possible so the patrons sitting closest to us wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. The dining room was crowded and loud and, I suspected, over the fire marshal’s maximum occupancy limit by at least twenty people. Tables were unusually close to one another, so our neighbors were within earshot.
When she didn’t transition from her steady blank stare, I asked, “Hey? Want to get some air? We can order to go or just eat on the boat instead?”
Her hands were in their usual place in her lap. Likely she had been digging her nails into her thighs beneath the table to focus her rioting nerves. Often, she grew anxious in public settings like this and used the trick to stay calm. Unfortunately, I couldn’t subtly squeeze them in mine to snap her focus back to the present, so I waited while a few more beats passed. When she still hadn’t snapped out of the trance she had slipped into, I did the unthinkable. I was going to get in serious hot water, but I couldn’t see another option. Under the table, I drew back at the knee and kicked her shin.
“Asshole!” Rio yelled. The only eight people remaining who hadn’t noticed her up to that point sure as hell did then.
Yeah, that was shitty. But at least it worked. “Welcome back,” I muttered, trying not to attract more attention.
“Fuck, Grant. Seriously?”
“Sorry, baby.”
“Sorry? Really? That’s all you’ve got after a stunt like that? I’m sure it’s already turning black and blue.” She leaned down, nearly resting her cheek on the tablecloth to rub her abused shin.
I leaned across the table and growled, “What did you want me to do? You were staring like a zombie. Half the staff was already panicking like they’d have to perform some first-aid procedure from a class they didn’t pay attention in.”
Rio extinguished the fiery glare with which she’d nearly been roasting me alive. “Sorry,” she muttered instead, blowing out an onerous exhale. “We can just go. I’m not really hungry now anyway.” Her sorrowful caramel stare never left her twisting fingers until I reached across the table and wrapped my palm over her knuckles.
“Blaze.”
“What?” she snapped.
“Look at me.”
Christ. One step forward, two steps back. Would life forever be like this with the woman?
Easy answer on that one. If it was, then she was worth it.
She was worth everything.
Slowly, she leveled her chin with the table again and met my waiting stare.
“You did not embarrass me. There isn’t a single thing you could do that would embarrass me. Do you understand that?” I asked in the most serious tone I could muster.
“You say that now.”
“Well, it’s true.” I paused thoughtfully, cocking my head. “Oh, hold up. I haven’t seen you dance yet. Is it that bad?”
“Be careful now, Tree—” She chuckled at first, but the sound gave way to a real laugh. I was instantly grateful that I had quickly decided to inject a little humor into my last comment to lighten the mood.
“But seriously for a second.” She was the one to put her hand on mine now, and I wasn’t going to be a dumb shit and waste the opportunity. I spread my fingers and let her slim feminine ones fall between them, locking us together in a small way. My heart swelled a bit more when, instead of the usual tugging away, Rio squeezed her hand tighter with mine and finished her thought.
“Before our server comes back, did you want to leave? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable now,” my beautiful woman said.
“Well, I’m still hungry and we’re already seated,” I commented while scanning the crowded restaurant. “But I want you to enjoy yourself, too, so I will do whatever you want. You make the call.” I really hoped she would choose to stay because, at some point, she was going to have to stop running and face Sean’s death head-on.
Maybe I wasn’t the right person to help her through that particular struggle in her life. Obviously I’d lost all objectivity on the subject of her personal, private life. But when it came to her happiness, I cared as much as—no, more than—everyone else, that she saw her way through this grieving and healing and found joy in living again.
Our waitress approached, and I looked to Rio with a hopeful nod. She both surprised me and made me so proud that instead of asking for the check for our drinks, she placed her lunch order. I followed suit, and when the server walked off, I scooped up her hands in mine. It was becoming harder and harder to not be touching her all the time. Even if just in some small way.
Of course, the bigger ways were so much more fun…
“I had an idea today. I wanted to get your thoughts on it. Also, I have something I need to ask you…” Rio looked to me nervously while she sprinkled salt on the communal basket of chips the waitress placed between us.
“Yes, we should definitely get a sex swing for the Naples house.” I pretended to be preoccupied with something on my phone, just to mess with her by throwing the random comment out nonchalantly. When she didn’t respond after a couple beats, I looked up to find her frozen with a chip halfway to her mouth. A wide grin was plastered across her face.
“Oh, I see my queen likes that idea, too. Noted.” I’m sure my grin matched hers then.
“You’re damn crazy, do you know that?”
I winked at her over the rim of my beer, partly because I knew it infuriated her, mostly because I already had the glass to my lips when asked the question, and the heat we had been shopping in really made me thirsty.
“What I really wanted to talk to you about…” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and her gaze moved around the dining room again, much slower this time, not the wild, unfocused way they had before. When it seemed as though she was going to take a second lap visually, I spoke up.
“Baby, do you remember one of the first times we met for lunch after I stopped working with you at Abstract? We met at the Bunker Hill Steps?”
“Yep. Sure do.” She smiled at the memory, too. “Empanadas, if I recall.”
“That’s right,” I agreed while my beam grew in direct proportion to hers. “You told me you wished more people would just say what they meant, would stop beating around the bush. Do it, girl. Speak your mind. It’s me.” I thumped the middle of my chest. “I may actually be one of the least judgmental people in LA.” I finished the last of my beer and waited for her to speak.