Page 21 of Tight Spot

“It’s all right. And yes, I play professional football, but I did want a degree in case my dreams never came true.”

Fortunately, he didn’t seem upset and was willing to move on.

I, on the other hand, glanced at the chilled bottle of white wine. Might settle my nerves. Might make my word vomit worse.

Better not to chance it.

“So.” I unrolled the silverware from the white, thick napkin and settled it in my lap to give my hands something to do. “I assume the privacy is because you didn’t want people recognizing you?”

Or seeing him with me, at least before he did?

The self-consciousness rose back in a gentle tide.

“I figure, yes, what we need to discuss should be in private.”

“Right.” He’d mentioned something cryptic over the phone, and Meredith had been equally stonewalling me. Not responding to my texts this afternoon left me more scattered.

We never ignored each other, which meant she was doing it on purpose.

Because he made this seem more like an agreement than a first date. It was exactly what I wanted, but did he have to make it seem so clinical?

“Maybe we should get to that then.”

His thick, dark brows tugged in, and that nose ring flashed again. “Let’s order first, then we won’t be disturbed. That all right?”

“Sure.”

I grabbed the menu and pretended to peruse it. Not like I hadn’t pulled it up online earlier to make my choices so I didn’t hesitate while I was in front of this man. Darrick always laughed at me for picking out my meals before I went to restaurants, but sometimes the choices were overwhelming.

A first date with a new guy and he didn’t need to see how ridiculous I could be.

“Would you like to share an appetizer?” Dawson asked, and his voice was a jolted pleasant surprise.

Damn, his voice was deep, throaty.

So much so the only appetizer I could think of was what his lips would taste like.

I hadn’t thought to choose one of those….

“Calamari?” I blurted. They weren’t horrible. Never my first choice. More word vomit for me. Awesome.

Dawson’s lips curled at the edges. “Perfect.”

His smile was perfect. Along with his teeth and his cut jawline concealed behind a shortly trimmed and sexy-as-hell beard.

Several minutes later, he leaned back and lifted two fingers. Our server must have been waiting because an older gentleman entered, dressed in all black.

“Ladies first,” Dawson said, with a slight tilt of his chin down, and oh my.

I really needed to not screw this up.

I ordered the gnocchi and allowed the waiter to pour me a glass of wine when he offered because what the hell? Why not. Dawson ordered chicken parmesan with a side of asparagus and then requested salad.

“Would you like one?”

I loved salads. Hated eating them on dates. My luck, a crouton went flying across the room or a chunk of pepper from the Caesar dressing would be stuck in my teeth.

The guy would either be too much of a gentleman to point it out, or he would, and then I’d be more embarrassed.

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