The answer seemed genuine and not tinged with regret. “I respectthat. A lot, actually. I think when lesbians started getting married, theassumption of kids came with it. Not quite as bad as straight couples, but kindof.”
Quinn’s hands came up like she was having an aha moment. “You’reso right. I’d never thought of it that way.”
“I blame the patriarchy.”
“Damned patriarchy.”
Amanda moved the vase of flowers from the sink to the island. “Ididn’t mean to take us on such a personal tangent.”
“Yeah. At least let a woman buy you dinner first.”
Amanda smiled. “Maybe you should let me buy you dinner inexchange for the third degree.”
“Nope.” Quinn shook her head. “You’ve already cooked me dinner.And since I can say with some certainty I’ll never cook you dinner, you have tolet me compensate.”
The comment seemed to have nothing to do with the likelihood ofanother date and everything to do with Quinn’s skills in the kitchen. “Youdon’t cook?”
Quinn cleared her throat. “Maybe we could eat before we have thisconversation.”
“All right. I’m not going to forget, though.” She wanted to knowwhether Quinn didn’t like to cook or if she couldn’t. An important distinctionin her book, even if neither was technically a dealbreaker.
“Sure, sure. Not like meetings.”
The comment, delivered with a straight face, took a second toregister. Teasing more than a jab. Another important distinction. “I’m notgoing to live that down, am I?”
She expected Quinn to let her off the hook, perhaps with afriendly shrug and a smile. Instead, she responded with, “Not any time soon.”
Amanda decided to try a little teasing of her own. “I’m good atmaking things up to people, though.”
Okay, maybe not the best double entendre, but she was trying. AndQuinn seemed to like it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
* * *
Since they were so close to Trumansburg, Quinn settled on Fig fordinner. Hell, even without starting in Trumansburg, it was one of her go-tospots for a date. And it would be nice to share a meal there with someone shegenuinely wanted to spend time with.
When they stepped inside, Amanda glanced over at the bar and, forthe briefest of moments, paused. Quinn flashed back to seeing her there. She’dbeen at the bar alone and hadn’t stayed long. Had she been stood up that night?By whom? Not that it was any of her business, but she had a pang of regret forpossibly stirring it up. “You okay?”
Amanda’s face went from something resembling irritation torealization she’d been caught to bright smile in about half a second. “Ofcourse.”
Quinn respected her ability to do so but wished there wasn’t aneed. Whether it had to do with wishing away the bad memory or wishing Amandawas more relaxed with her, she couldn’t be sure. Either way, it wasn’t herplace to pry. At least not yet. “All right.”
She gave her name to the hostess and they were seated.Fortunately, it wasn’t the same table she’d shared with…with? Lisa. It had tobe a bad sign she couldn’t even remember all their names at this point.
They settled on a bottle of wine and a couple of plates to share.As always, the service was efficient and unobtrusive. The food—an arugula saladwith strawberries and bleu cheese, a zucchini and pine nut flatbread, andgnocchi with garlic scape pesto—was outstanding. Drew Davis, the chef, made around of the dining room and stopped by their table. It was the kind ofpersonal touch she appreciated.
It all paled in comparison to the conversation, though. Amandawas smart and funny and almost ridiculously easy to talk to. She didn’t expectany different based on her time with Amanda thus far, but she’d developed sucha reticence about dating, she half expected things to turn awkward beforedessert.
They didn’t, and although Amanda resisted at first, Quinn talkedher into sharing dessert. “I know you’re a snob when it comes to dessert, sothank you for making an exception.”
“I am, but the pastry chef here never disappoints.”
“Ah, so you were resisting on principle.” It felt like perhapsthey were talking about more than dessert.
“Maybe.”
“I respect that.” She did, too. “But I’d be lying if I said Iwasn’t glad you can be persuaded sometimes.”
Amanda’s smile was slow. “Sometimes.”
On the walk from the restaurant to her car, she gave in to theurge to take Amanda’s hand. Not too forward. Familiar. And it was nice to havethe urge again. Just like the urge to kiss her.
From the moment she opened the passenger door for Amanda to themoment she pulled into Amanda’s driveway, all Quinn could think about waskissing her. Not whether or not she wanted to. No, the want was coming inpretty loud and clear. The problem was, for as many dates as she’d been on inthe last year, she was rusty at this part. She wasn’t the most take-chargeperson to begin with. Not that she couldn’t take charge when the moment calledfor it. She just preferred being cautious to screwing up.
But sometimes being too cautious was the screw-up.
“I had a nice time.” Amanda tucked a piece of hair behind herear.
“I did, too.” Quinn stood there, feeling as nervous as a teenagerand hoping to God it wasn’t evident on her face.
“Does this mean I get to make you dinner again?”
The tiny gift of encouragement did wonders to calm Quinn’s racingmind. Her pulse was another matter, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “Idon’t think I’ll ever say no to a meal with you. You cooking it would be anextra layer of awesome.”
Extra layer of awesome? Where the hell did that come from?
Amanda smirked slightly but didn’t seem put off by the cheesinessof the line. “Something tells me you’re easy to impress.”
“Nah. I just know what I like.” Not the best line, but it made upfor “extra layer of awesome.” At least a little.
“Good to know.” She nodded. “So…” She trailed off but didn’t makeany move to go inside or even unlock the door. Funny how so much could beconveyed with so little sometimes. It provided the exact right amount ofencouragement.
She looked from Amanda’s eyes, down
