“Come on.” I offered Shiloh my hand, helping her off the table.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. Out. Are you hungry?”
She arched a brow. “Are you taking me on adate?”
“Maybe. You want to? Or is that against the rules?”
She looked like she was going to clap back with something smart-ass. Instead, her smile softened. “I could eat.”
“Good.” I realized I hadn’t been on an actual date with a girl since…ever. All my “dates” had been sex in rough places. Drunken hookups. Quick fixes. Shiloh was not that.
“But where to?” she asked as we left the shack and walked the path along the coast. “Not downtown Santa Cruz, I presume.”
“Not downtown. Any ideas?”
“Yes, actually. Ever been to Scotts Valley?”
“I haven’t been anywhere that’s not in walking distance from my place.”
“Ever have Thai food?”
“Also no.” I helped Shiloh over a good-size boulder.
“Unacceptable.” She jumped off the rock, the ocean water washing over her sandals as she stood on tiptoe to kiss me. “Stick with me, Wentz. I’ll take care of you.”
***
Scotts Valley was a little town tucked into the redwoods, just north of Santa Cruz—built on rolling hills with views of the forest in every direction. Shiloh maneuvered her Buick into a parking space on the main drag next to an art gallery.
“The restaurant I’m thinking of is on the other side of town,” she told me as we climbed out. “But it’s turning into a beautiful night. I thought we could walk.”
I nodded and marveled as her hand slipped into mine. We walked as the sun dipped behind the trees, and I could almost pretend I wasa regular guy, living a normal life, going on a date with his girlfriend.
Slow the fuck down. She said no labels.
Still. The moment felt good, and I let myself have it.
“You come up here a lot?” I asked as we passed shops and restaurants.
“Bibi and I used to come once a month or so. I’ve been so busy preparing for my shop, it’s been a while.”
“How’s that going?” I asked. It seemed strange to think of her opening a business straight out of high school, but if anyone could do it, it was this girl.
“It’s in a holding pattern,” she said. “I’ve applied for all the permits and licenses, and now I’m just waiting to hear back. But that’s not the worst of it. If I get the licenses, the next step is a meeting with a bank for a small business loan. Which should be fun since I have no collateral to speak of and it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let Bibi put up the house.”
“She offered?”
“She sure did,” Shiloh said, her voice turning thick for a moment. “But it’s far too risky. Most new businesses fail within the first three years, according to basically every article I’ve read on the subject. Bibi’s retired, and the house is paid off. I’m not about to wreck that for her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t feel like it’s wrecking anything but helping you build something instead.”
“That’s what she said too.” Her smile lingered, and then she shook her head. “But I need to do this on my own. If I fail, I’m not taking anyone down with me.”
I couldn’t imagine her failing at anything but kept my mouth shut. God knew life had a way of fucking shit up for good people. Like my mother. Or Maryann. I didn’t want to jinx it for Shiloh.
“What’s Wisconsin like?” she asked as we walked up and down the hilly streets, the night quiet.