One Night With The Cowboy. Brenda Harlen
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weren’t usually very intuitive. But Caleb had always been more attuned to her thoughts and feelings than anyone else she’d ever known.
And because she still didn’t know how to answer his question, she tried to buy herself another few seconds by lifting her glass to her lips again—only to discover that it was empty.
As if on cue, the waitress appeared. “Can I get you another glass of wine?”
“Just the bill, please,” Caleb said, before Brie had a chance to nod her head.
“Of course,” the server agreed, and hurried away.
“Maybe I did want another glass of wine,” Brie said.
“You can have one with dinner,” he told her.
“We still have half a plate of appetizers right here,” she pointed out.
“I need real food,” he said.
“This tastes real to me,” she said, selecting another onion ring.
“Does it taste like steak?”
She dropped the onion ring back onto the plate.
He grinned. “Let’s take a walk, darlin’.”
Since her plans for a girls’ dinner had fallen by the wayside, she decided there was no harm in sharing a meal with an old friend—even if that old friend was also her ex-husband. So after Caleb signed the check, they headed out to the strip.
But he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to find a restaurant, and he held her hand as they weaved through the crowds.
“So I don’t lose you,” he explained, when he linked their fingers together.
And because it felt both natural and comfortable to hold his hand, she didn’t protest. Or point out that they’d lost one another a lot of years before.
They talked while they walked—casual conversation about mutual acquaintances and family members. The initial awkwardness had passed and being with him felt easy and familiar again. It also made Brie remember all the good times they’d shared, and that enticed her imagination to wander down the dangerously tempting path of “what if.”
They lucked out and managed to snag a table at Prime—a steak and seafood restaurant inside the Courtland Hotel. Caleb put his hand on her back as they followed the hostess, and even through the fabric of her dress, Brie felt the heat of his touch branding her skin and making her knees weak.
The small square table was covered with a white linen cloth and set with gleaming silver and sparkling crystal. Comfy armchairs were positioned on adjacent sides of the table, contributing to the intimacy of the atmosphere. Caleb pulled one of the chairs away from the table for her, and as Brie lowered herself into the leather seat, she found herself thinking that this suddenly felt a lot like a date with a capital D.
When they’d been dating, and trying to hide the fact from their respective families, they’d never shared a meal in a fancy restaurant. Because even grabbing a bite at Diggers’ had stretched their budgets—and set tongues wagging. Instead, they’d usually chosen to spend their meager dollars at Jo’s, where they could hang out as friends without anyone blinking an eye.
Brie had never felt as if she was missing out, though. And she’d especially enjoyed the times that they’d taken their pizza up to the old cabin at Crooked Creek and eaten it cold after making love.
She dragged her attention back to the present when she was handed a leather folder. The hostess then recited the drink and dinner specials and promised that their server would be over in just a minute.
“This is few steps up from Diggers’,” Caleb remarked when they were alone, the comment suggesting that his thoughts had wandered down a path similar to her own.
“It’s very nice,” she agreed, opening her menu to peruse the offerings.
“Of course, you must dine in fancy restaurants all the time in New York.”
“I go out to eat more than I probably should,” she acknowledged. “But rarely to fancy restaurants. In fact, one of my favorite places reminds me a lot of Diggers’—right down to the burly bartender.”
“I wouldn’t describe Sky as burly,” he said, his eyes twinkling with humor as they met hers. “Though she can definitely be surly, at times.”
“I was referring to Duke, not Sky,” she chided. The former was the owner of the bar and grill; the latter was his sister, an employee at the bar.
“Oh.” He nodded. “That does make more sense.”
Brie was smiling when the server, who introduced himself as Eric, delivered a basket of warm bread and a pot of whipped butter to the table.
Caleb ordered a bottle of Argentinean Malbec and Eric uncorked it at the table, then poured a first glass for the customer’s approval. He swirled the liquid in the bowl, passed it under his nose and finally sipped before nodding. The server then poured a second glass for Brie.
“When did you become a wine connoisseur?” she asked, when they were alone again.
“I’m hardly a connoisseur,” Caleb said. “But I paid attention when Macy was explaining the tasting procedure to my brother.”
“Macy’s the manager of the inn, right?”
“And now Liam’s fiancée.”
“Your brother proposed to a single mom of triplets?”
He nodded. “And if you think that’s surprising, you should see him dote on those kids.”
Except they both knew that wasn’t likely to ever happen.
On the rare occasions that Brie went back to Haven, she’d done everything she could to avoid running into Caleb. She’d been apprehensive about seeing him: uncertain about what to say, wary about how she might feel. And for more than seven years, her efforts to elude him had been successful.
Though she hadn’t been thrilled about making another trip to Nevada, she hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with Caleb in such a crowded city so far from Haven. Now she was sharing wine and conversation with him, remembering how much they’d once shared—and how much she’d missed him when he was no longer a part of her life.
She shook off the memories and melancholy and turned her attention back to her menu as Caleb set his aside.
“You know what you want already?” she asked, surprised that he’d decided when she’d barely skimmed through the appetizers.
“I’ve always known what I wanted,” he said.
She felt his gaze on her and wondered—for a brief moment—if he was referring to something other than food.
“Steak,” he said, when she peered cautiously at him over the top of the leather folder, and added a wink for good measure.
“Oh, right.” She quickly skimmed the rest of the menu offerings, then closed the cover as the server returned to their table.
Brie ordered the prime rib with garlic mashed potatoes and pan-seared broccolini; Caleb opted for the porterhouse steak with a loaded baked potato and sautéed green beans and mushrooms.
When Eric disappeared again, Caleb buttered a slice of bread and offered it to her.
As she started to shake her head, her stomach growled in protest.
He grinned and moved the bread closer to her lips. She instinctively opened her mouth and took a bite. She didn’t think about the intimacy of eating from his hand until her bottom lip caught on the pad of his thumb.
She abruptly pulled away, her lip tingling at the point of contact. Caleb’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered as she carefully chewed the bread.
“Maybe it’s not all in my head,” he mused quietly.
She