Polly’s smile widened as she exclaimed, “Lovely! It would be so nice to have her here. Lord knows, we can always use an extra pair of hands!”
“I know the clinic is so busy, just like us.”
“I’m always telling people in the lunch line that appear sick to please come in and see us. Occasionally they will, especially if they have little kids. But most of the others don’t. I don’t know if they don’t have the required paperwork to be seen or if they’re just suspicious. But I hate to see sick people not get the care they need.”
Smiling, she patted Polly’s arm. “Well, have a nice weekend. I’m getting ready to head home.” With a wave, she hurried to her car. On the way to pick up Colleen from her after-school care, she called Erin to give her the good news. Her sister was happier than she had been in months with the news. Colleen barely stayed buckled as she bounced up and down telling her mother all about her day.
As she pulled into her driveway, Tara smiled. It was the start of a wonderful weekend.
12
Tara hated driving at night, even with GPS telling her step-by-step where to go. Finally, the sign for The Italian Garden came into view and she breathed a sigh of relief at not being late. Maybe I should’ve had Carter just pick me up. As appealing as that thought was, she did not want to expose Colleen to her going on a date—at least, not yet. Erin arrived that evening to babysit, and Colleen just knew that her mother was going out somewhere. A smile curved her lips as she thought of the first sign of true happiness on Erin’s face at the decision to pursue nursing and her daughter’s face, realizing her aunt was going to spend time with her.
She pulled into a parking spot, then looked into the mirror to touch up her lipstick. She stared at the close-up reflection of her face before offering a pep talk. You’ve got this. It’s just a date… Okay, a date with a gorgeous man. But it’s been a while… Okay, it’s been years. But it’s just a date. The encouraging words did little to still the flip-flops in her stomach.
Climbing from her car, she started to cross the parking lot when she observed Carter standing near the front door. He was looking in the other direction, giving her a chance to stare. Dark slacks paired with a white shirt. A black leather jacket. Clean-shaven with a strong, square jaw. Her stomach began to flip-flop again with each step that brought her closer to him. He must have heard her heeled boots as she neared, swinging his head around and pinning her with his gaze. And then, a wide, beautiful smile spread across his face. Oh, hell, girl. Keep trying to remember, this is just a date.
With his long legs, he reached her in a few steps, reaching out his hand. Uncertain of proper first date protocol, she was glad when he did not fumble with an awkward hug. Instead, his fingers wrapped around hers, keeping them warm as they walked to the door.
Once inside, she appreciated the welcoming interior of the family-owned Italian restaurant. It was decorated simply, with wooden floors and walls painted pale green. The cushions on the chairs and booths were dark burgundy with pale green stripes. The walls were adorned with pictures of Italian landscapes, interspersed with pictures of the owner’s family through the years.
Carter gave his name for the reservation, and they followed the hostess to a corner booth near the back. Once again, he helped her with her coat and folded it neatly on the booth next to him. Sliding his leather jacket off his broad shoulders, he placed it on the booth as well.
“Tara, you look absolutely beautiful.”
She smiled her thanks, adding, “You look very nice yourself.” She cast her gaze out toward the restaurant, hearing soft music in the background. “I’ve never been here before. This is lovely.”
“I discovered this place a couple of years ago. I was investigating a string of robberies in the area and had a chance to meet the owners. It quickly became one of my favorite places to come when I was in the mood for Italian. I confess, I’m not an overly picky eater, but everything here is fresh and homemade.”
As though on cue, the server placed a bowl of hot, buttery garlic bread on the table. The delicious scent rising from the bread had Tara moaning. “I love bread. Especially homemade. We could probably forget the rest of the meal and I’d be happy with wine and bread.”
“I’ll keep that in mind as a future reference,” he laughed. “But, for tonight, I hope you’ll try more than just the bread.”
They spent a moment perusing the menu before a man approached, round in the middle with a clean apron tied about his waist.
“Carter! I haven’t seen you in a while! I was afraid you’d decided to find another place to eat.”
Carter stood and the two men clasped hands in a hearty shake. “Lorenzo, it’s good to see you.” Turning to face Tara, he said, “Tara, I’d like you to meet Lorenzo, the owner and chef extraordinaire here at The Italian Garden. Lorenzo, this is the lovely Tara Wilson.”
Before she had a chance to extend her hand, Lorenzo grabbed both of her shoulders and kissed one cheek before moving to the other. Blinking in surprise, she laughed, uncertain what to say.
“Bella, I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. Carter never comes in here with a lady, so this is a treat. I will send my best wine, and please, let me offer you our special tonight. I’m doing manicotti just for you.”
Carter held her gaze and
