Page 31 of Sizzle

A breath I didn’t realize I was holding whooshes out of my lungs. “Good, because I’ve never planned a date. I wanted tonight to be special.”

I sound like a teenager saying that, but it’s true. I’ve got a lot riding on tonight.

“Never?” She looks shocked as she swallows around her spoon.

How has a woman eating never been this distracting before? I try not to focus on her lips, but it proves a humongous effort.

I shrug. “I was never interested.”

“So there have been no other women?” Her eyebrow quirks like I have to be bullshitting her.

“I’m not going to lie and say there haven’t been some, but none that meant much. None I wanted to pursue, as shitty as that sounds.”

Gabrielle nods as she swipes a shrimp through the cocktail sauce. “We’re two pretty closed-off people, huh?”

The wine starts to buzz in my veins, and I know I’ll only have a glass, but there is something about enjoying a meal with her on this dock that makes me want to sit here all night long.

“Nah, just two people who were waiting for the right person to open up to.”

“That sounds awfully poetic, Liam,” she says.

“Would you like me to bring back the glib, dirty farmer now?”

“Save him for later. I’m enjoying the gentleman in front of me.” The side of her mouth tips up.

Nate brings out our entrées, and I divide them up for us. It seems a little too bold to feed her a lobster roll out of my hands, as badly as I want to. Treading cautiously will have to do where Gabrielle is concerned for the near future.

“Do you like being back in Hope Crest?” It seems like a safe question.

She nods. “I always loved it here. From the couple of times we came to visit my grandma growing up, I always just had such fond memories. The river, downtown, walking around in the summer with ice cream cones dripping onto our hands. Everything about it felt so picturesque. I guess that’s why your family never left, huh?”

“It is pretty special. Weird to think we could have been in the same place at the same time when we were kids when you came to see your grandma.” The tuna steak melts in my mouth as I take the last sip of the one glass I’m limiting myself to.

“Instead, we had to meet in that damn classroom.” Gabrielle’s eyes light with sad amusement.

“Too soon to joke about yet?” I question.

She shakes her head. “No. I guess it brings some levity, right? It just …”

“Sucks? Yeah. Any different place or time and maybe I wouldn’t have been so miserable coming out of high school. I do wonder why you never went back to teaching, though?”

She dips her head. “I thought maybe it was me. Maybe I had a … problem.”

That confession sends a pang of guilt through my gut. “Don’t even dare to think that.”

“Rationally, and with time, I knew it wasn’t true. That I was lying to myself and turning it all around in my head. But I thought if I went to another school, maybe it would happen again and I just couldn’t … I couldn’t risk that. So I stayed away.”

“I’m sorry.” It somehow feels like my fault.

“Don’t be. The thing is, I didn’t miss it. I’d been lukewarm about teaching anyway, but my parents deemed it a good, solid career and I always followed their lead. I spent so much time training to be one, and leaving it in a snap left me so unaffected, I should have known it wasn’t for me. Then I ended up in a job that kind of assisted teachers, and I was lukewarm on that, too. I envy you for knowing what you wanted to do and being passionate about it from day one. I’m in my mid-thirties and still have no clue what I want to be when I grow up.”

Setting down my fork and knife as she takes a bite of her half of the lobster roll, I wipe my mouth and contemplate something.

“I feel like the whole ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’ question is such bullshit. What kid knows that they want to be a doctor or a librarian or a firefighter? They’ve never actually done any of those things besides seeing highly fictionalized versions of them on TV or something. Plus, no one should want to aspire to be labeled fully as their job. When did we stop teaching people to want to be happy, or loved, or fulfilled? Shouldn’t we just want good people around us, a warm roof over our heads, a little bit of fun, and a whole lot of things we enjoy doing when we grow up? Damn, it just irks me, that question. You don’t have to know what you want to do, Gabrielle. You just have to know who you are and how you want to live. I’m a farmer, one of those jobs that people pick on as lowly or not measuring up to some worldly standard, and I’m generally a very content person. You can shovel shit for a living and still enjoy your life.”

Gabrielle studies me from across the flickering candlelight, and if I’m not mistaken, there might be a tear in her eye. “That’s pretty damn deep for a man who doesn’t seem to express those sentiments out loud much.”

“I’ve got a lot of time to think while I’m shoveling dirt, ya know?” A small smile tips the corners of my mouth up.

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