“It’s no big deal. I’m over it.” Main Street was rather crowded for a Friday afternoon, but after scouring the side streets, Derek finally found a place to park near the Walker Beach Bar & Grill. He cut the engine and picked up the phone. “I’m here, though, so I’d better go.”
“Au revoir. We will speak soon.”
He hung up, then ducked through the rain as he ran from his car to the restaurant. A mixture of smells hit his nose as he entered and scanned the room for Ashley. Huge TVs on every wall sat silent today, giving the place a much quieter and calmer feel than usual. The lunch crowd had already passed through, leaving only a handful of booths taken.
Ashley waved from a large wraparound booth in the corner, where she sat nearly at the center of the semicircle.
He walked over and slid in next to her. “Thanks for coming.”
She eyed him and his blue T-shirt, which was heavily dotted with water. “I see you got caught in the storm.” As for her, she didn’t have a hair out of place, and the yellow shirt that perfectly complemented her tan skin was completely dry. It was one of those off-the-shoulder numbers that revealed her sculpted arms.
His mouth went dry, and he snatched the full glass of water in front of him and drank. “Yep.”
Her lips twitched as she signaled to a young male server with a pocked face. “Can you let Janice know we’re both here, please?”
“Absolutely, miss. Be right back.”
Ashley turned to Derek. “I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a few appetizers, main courses, and desserts for us to try. If you don’t care for any of them, we can try again next week.”
He nearly laughed at how formal she sounded, but it was actually kind of cute, which sobered him right up. “I’m sure I’ll like anything from this place.” Plucking the plastic menu from the silver holder in the middle of the table, he nearly moaned at the pictures of street tacos, onion rings, and the restaurant’s infamous grilled calamari sandwich.
“Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of food we’re trying today.” Ashley took the menu from his fingers and put it back. “As you know, Bud and Velma Travis own this place, but their daughter Janice has started doing some catering. Her stuff is amazing, and she happened to be available on your date.”
“Of course. Sorry.”
“No worries.” Her voice relaxed, a touch of professionalism replaced with something warm and soft. “I thought that your guests from France might want something a bit more sophisticated than ribs and burgers.” Ashley pulled a straw from its wrapper.
He rubbed his throat, fingers running over a patch of hair he’d missed in his shave this morning. “Makes total sense.”
“Though if I were choosing food for my own wedding, I’d pick the same food as you.” She plopped the straw into her water, then stiffened, turning wide eyes toward him. “Not because it’s what you would choose. That would just be my own preference regardless. More casual, you know?”
Oh man, her cheeks were growing red. She’d always flushed hard-core and rambled whenever something flustered her. Not that much did. So why was she rattled now?
He could probe—but that was dangerous territory.
Before he had to figure out what to say next, the server returned with three huge platters, which he placed on the table. Now Derek understood why Ashley had selected the largest booth in the place.
“Here we have mini gazpacho soups, tuna tartare cones, and prosciutto-wrapped persimmons. Enjoy.”
“I think there was one more Janice had for us,” Ashley said. “Can you double-check, please?”
“Of course.”
As the server left, Derek stared at the food. He gingerly picked up one of the tuna things, which looked like peppered sugar cones—but instead of ice cream, they held some sort of tomato and green onion mixture. Ugh, and the smell …
Ashley giggled. “It won’t bite, Derek. I’m pretty sure the tuna is dead.”
He looked at her, and the wry smile on her face was enough to coax out one of his own. “This is all very refined and elegant, but I can’t bring myself to try them.”
She picked up one of the little orange things with a sprig of greenery sticking out the top. “For someone who knows wine like the back of his hand, you sure have an underdeveloped palate when it comes to food.” Taking a bite, she closed her eyes and chewed. “Mmm.”
A dab of something white stuck to her lips after she’d polished off the appetizer. He stared at it for a moment before grabbing a napkin and handing it to her. “You left something behind.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She wiped her lips, but missed it completely.
“No, right there.” He indicated the spot on his own face.
Ashley tried again, but it still clung there stubbornly.
“Here.” He leaned closer and ran the pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth.
Both of them froze at the contact, and man, he couldn’t possibly miss how smooth and full her lips felt.
Dropping his hand, he swiped it across a napkin. Derek cleared his throat. “Got it.”
Thank goodness the server chose that moment to return with a platter of something he did recognize. He turned toward Ashley, who bit her lip as she watched him. “Soft pretzels?”
“I know how much you like them.” She fiddled with her napkin. “Or, you used to, anyway.”
He sensed the hidden meaning in her words. “I still do.”
“Good.” A smile teased the corners of her lips. “I would have found it hard to believe your tastes had changed that much. Not after you used to order them wherever we went.”
That’s right, he had—at the movies, the mall, the festivals in the park.
The fair.
And then the memory struck—the two of them, not too long after he’d returned home several years after college, laughing
