“I want to know if I’m right.”
“We’ll do a tally at the end.” He raised his eyebrows, clearly asking her if that was okay, and when she nodded, Dawson forced his shoulders down. He needed to relax. This was a fun date, not a job interview.
“So for your appetizer, discounting the seafood, you’re going to get the Caprese salad. Your salad course is also going to be soup, but not French onion. Mushroom, which I’ve had here before, and it was excellent, so good choice. Your main….” He took a sideways glance at the menu. “I’m going to go with chicken cordon bleu. Feels like you. Dessert is one thousand percent going to be the butterscotch cheesecake.”
He watched her lips twitch with every menu item he said, and he knew he’d nailed it. “So? How’d I do?”
“Rate me first.”
Their game paused as a waiter appeared alongside another man. “I’m Omar,” he said. “I’ll be your server tonight, assisted by Gregory. He’s got our signature wine tonight, but we have other drinks if you’d like something else.” He beamed at Caroline and then Dawson.
“I’m driving,” he said. “But I’d take a virgin mojito if you can do that.”
“Of course,” Gregory said, looking to Caroline.
“I’ll take that wine,” she said. He poured her a glass,and they all watched as the pink liquid flowed into the goblet prettily. “Thank you.” She lifted it and swirled it, and Dawson had never found anything as attractive as her smelling it, brightening, and then taking a sip. “Mm, that’s good.”
“We’ll give you a couple of minutes with the menu,” Omar said. “You know how things go here?”
“Yes, sir,” Dawson said. “Thank you.”
They left, and he looked at Caroline again. “You got three out of four.”
Her eyes widened, and then her face fell in a pout. “What did I miss?”
“I’m not going to get the scallops for the appetizer,” he said. “I love a good steak tartar.”
“Oh, my word,” she said, a note of horror in her voice. “You like all the things I don’t.”
“Not all of them.” He reached across the table and took both of her hands in both of his. “I like you, and you like you.”
“Funny.”
“We both like ice cream,” he said. “And over-easy eggs. And potatoes. And breakfast for dinner. I’mwildabout breakfast for dinner.” He grinned and grinned until she finally cracked a tiny smile for him. “I got all of yours, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she clipped out. “And quite annoyingly, too.” She didn’t pull her hands away, but she looked towardthe dance floor. “I mean, who gets labeled asfeels like chicken cordon bleu?”
He laughed then, because he had said that about her. But he hadn’t been wrong.
Everything inside the barn felt touched by magic, or maybe by the hand of God. He wasn’t sure which.
He knew the food came out hot—or cold—and amazing, and he knew he was about to pop by the time the band started setting up. And he knew with one look at Caroline that she liked live music and dancing. Or at least one of those things.
She watched the band for a few minutes, and then she trained her pretty gaze on him. “Do you dance, cowboy?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “It’s a requirement of all true Texas cowboys that we know how to spin a lady around the floor.”
“Spinning?” She lifted her eyebrows in a clear tease. “I just ate so much.”
“Hm, seems like a you-problem.”
Caroline blinked once and then threw her head back and laughed. Her curls had loosened as their dinner had progressed, and Dawson couldn’t wait to run his fingers through them. Maybe fist his hand there while he kissed her good-night.
That was something to be considered too, as she’d mentioned that she didn’t like kissing him on the doorstep. She felt like Belle might be watching, as theyhad a camera system, or she might realize how long they stood out there, ending their date.
And tonight, Dawson wanted a red-hot, fiery, Valentine’s Day kiss good-night. He wanted one of those every time he kissed Caroline, but especially tonight.
The first strains of music met his ears, and he perked up. He pulled his napkin off his lap and tossed it on the table. “Will you dance with me?” He stood and offered her his hand. When she didn’t immediately slide hers into it, he added, “I won’t spin you.”