The bread, wine, and Lorenzo’s greeting had broken the ice, and conversation flowed.
“Have you lived in Hope City long?”
Her mouth full of buttery bread, she quickly chewed and swallowed as Carter laughed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you choke.”
Wiping her mouth with her napkin, she grinned. “I told you I love bread.” Taking a sip of wine, she replied, “I’ve lived here all my life. My parents moved here right after my oldest brother was born and they bought a large house with the hopes that they wouldn’t have to move. My siblings are all grown, but my parents still live in that house.” Taking another sip of wine, she asked, “What about you?”
“I’m originally from Virginia. Baytown, a small town on the Eastern Shore. I did two years of college, playing football for a midsize university there.” Shaking his head slightly, he added, “It just wasn’t my thing. I think I was too young to know what my thing was.”
“I’d say that makes you very normal. I don’t think most eighteen-year-olds know what they want to do.”
His blue eyes held hers and he nodded. “Exactly. So, I joined the Marines and decided on military police. I eventually did investigations and discovered that was something I truly enjoyed. After my tour was up, I went back to Virginia, finished a degree in Police Science, and worked for a small police department for a couple of years. I had a former buddy that lived in Hope City and when I visited, I fell in love with this place. Put it in an application and within six months I was living here full time and had a job as a detective.”
“That sounds like all the pieces of the puzzle fit together.” She leaned back and pushed the bread platter slightly away from her. “Ugh, keep that away from me or I’m going to completely fill up on his bread.”
He laughed and slid the platter to the side before pouring more wine into her glass. “My parents still live in Baytown, and I try to see them a couple of times a year. I’ve got a sister who lives in Kansas City with her husband and kids. I generally only get to see them once a year.”
Eyes wide, she shook her head slightly. “Wow! I know that’s typical, but my whole family is still local. Some of my siblings joined the military, but they’re all back now. We're a huge family, but we still manage to get together at least once a month at my parents’ house for dinner.”
Taking another sip of wine, she felt his eyes on her. Afraid she had spilled something on herself, she quickly wiped her lips, but he continued his perusal. “What are you looking at?”
“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about what you said. It fits you. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but it’s not hard imagining you having a close family. Where did you fit in birth order?”
Grinning, she leaned back in her seat. “Guess.”
“Hmmm. Okay, I’m going to say you’re either the oldest or the oldest girl in your family.”
“Very good, Detective. How did you deduce that?”
“You’re caring. I can see you caring for your other siblings. If you were the youngest, I’m not sure you would have that trait as strong as you do.”
Nodding, she continued smiling. “I was the oldest girl. I have two older brothers, but three younger siblings.”
He coughed, choking on his wine. Eyes wide, he sputtered, “Six? There are six kids in your family? And you’re all still close?”
“Yes, and there’s more. The family we grew up next to had five kids in their family, and I’m the oldest girl of all eleven of us. Lots of responsibility, but lots of fun.”
“I can’t even imagine. It’s like having a whole sports team just between the two families.”
“I’m surprised there was any grass that grew between our two houses.” She shrugged, “But our parents didn’t mind us running back and forth all the time.”
Their conversation was interrupted when the server brought the plates. Steam rose from the melted cheese on top of the manicotti and the scent of tomatoes, basil, garlic, and fresh pasta had her mouth watering. The server placed another platter of bread between them and Tara’s eyes bugged. “I’ll need a doggy bag for sure, and it looks like this will be my lunch for the next couple of days.”
For the next several minutes they ate, moans of appreciation taking the place of conversation. Finally slowing, she glanced at Carter’s plate, surprised to see it was almost empty.
He caught her gaze and chuckled. “I like to eat, and Lorenzo knows how to cook.”
“He certainly does. I don’t often get out for an adult meal. I’m so glad you chose it.”
“I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” he said, his voice warm.
She could feel her face heat and could not remember the last time she blushed. The server came to take her plate away to box it up, and she was glad for the diversion. Taking another sip of wine, she looked across the table, finding his eyes on her.
“You keep staring at me,” she said. “It makes me nervous.”
He shook his head slowly back and forth. “It shouldn’t make you nervous. I confess I’ve been admiring your beauty all evening, but it’s getting to know you that makes this dinner more special.” He continued to hold her gaze and said, “Tell me about social work. How did you get into it and what made you decide to work with the homeless?”
She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted as Lorenzo appeared at their table, placing two servings of tiramisu in front of them.
“This is my daughter’s specialty,” he
