“I made a reservation at Mountain Ember. It’s a steakhouse. Have you been there?”
Casey’s eyes widened. “No. It just opened a few months ago, right?”And it’s the most expensive place in the county.
“Yeah. They have great food. I hope you’re not vegan or something.”
She laughed. “I love steak, so no worries there.”
He grasped her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. “You’re something, you know that?”
“What brought that on?”
“You. Everything about you.”
“The way I look isn’t all I am.”
“I know that.” He placed her hand on his thigh. “That’s why we’re going out—to get to know each other better. My patch and good looks aren’t all I am either.”
Shaking her head, she lightly punched his arm. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Sure, why not? You act confident, too.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“It’s not just your looks. It’s your sass, your smart mouth, and that ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude. That shit draws me in. Most chicks fall at my feet, you know.”
“I’m glad I’m here to keep your god-like presence grounded.”
Rags laughed. “That’s what I like, baby.” He stroked her cheek with his fingers.
They arrived at the restaurant, pulling into a very crowded parking lot. After handing the keys to the parking attendant, he clutched her hand, and they walked into the steakhouse.
The Mountain Ember had an upscale, modern, yet warm ambiance, blending classic steakhouse elegance with contemporary design. It featured elements like buttery-soft leather seating, granite, steel, and glass, all centered around a grand and cozy gray-washed fireplace.
As the hostess guided them to their table, Casey marveled at the artful glass and sleek lines, accented by European lighting. The aroma of grilled meat wafted in the air, as a cacophony of cutlery on china plates and chatter filled the establishment.
They slid into a half-circle booth—Casey on one side, Rags across from her. After ordering drinks, a dirty martini for her and a double shot of whiskey for him, Casey settled back and smiled. “Good choice on the restaurant. I love it.”
“I’m glad I didn’t fuck it up.” His lips quirked up.
“I doubt you fuck things up often. You seem like a man who’s in control.”
“Most of the time, but I’ve had my share of screwups.”
“We all have.”
“Ready to order?” the waiter asked.
They gave their order: prime rib, sautéed spinach, and mashed potatoes for her; rib eye steak, sautéed wild mushrooms, and a loaded baked potato for him. The waiter complimented their choices and walked away.
Rags lifted his glass and took a sip, his gaze fixed on her. “How long have you been in Pinewood Springs?”
“A little more than a year and a half.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before now.”
“I’m a nose-to-the-grindstone kind of person. I tend to be over zealous with work.” She took a sip of her martini.
“So, Blue’s Belly and Ruthie’s were firsts for you?” he asked.