“Have you ever been here before?” he asks, watching me carefully.
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “No.”
His brows furrow. “Do you not like it? We can leave if?—”
Before he can stand up, I reach for his hand, stopping him.
His hand. Oh. My. Gah.
It’s warm, solid, and big enough to make evenmefeel small.
He freezes, eyes flicking down to where our fingers are now touching, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
Oh.
Oh,thisis dangerous.
“No! Nothing like that,” I rush to explain, hating the way his expression softens like he’s about to accommodate me when I don’t even need him to.
“It’s just, well, you know my sisters, and I just started our business. It, uh, took a little time to get us there, financially speaking. So going out like this? It’s been a while.”
I glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of how our hands are still connected.
Horace is quiet for a beat, then he says, softly, “You’ve worked really hard.”
And—damn it.
That—that shouldn’t mean anything.
Not from him.
Not from this practically-a-stranger sitting across from me.
But it does.
I feel something when he says it.
Like warmth. Recognition.
Like something deep in me has been waiting to hear those words.
I start to smile, but then—oh God—a horrifying realization slaps me in the face.
“Oh! But I didn’t mean I can’t pay my share of dinner or anything like that,” I blurt out, panicking that I might have accidentally implied otherwise.
Horace chuckles, squeezing my fingers before I can pull away.
Then—before I can process it—he lifts my hand to his lips and presses the briefest, softest kiss against my knuckles.
My entire body short-circuits.
“Carina,” he murmurs, his deep voice rolling over my skin like a warm caress, “you are an absolute delight. And I never imagined for a second that’s what you meant. But if you’d allow it…”
He leans in, grinning slightly, like he knows he’s about to ruin me.
“I’d love for tonight to be my treat.”
I manage to whisper, “We’ll see,” before I finally pull my hand away.