Page 5 of Spring Fling

Our menus arrive, and we fall into an easy rhythm, ordering a couple of spring specials—salmon for her, elk for me. The restaurant is still riding the edge of tourist season. So it’s busy but not overwhelming.

The sunlight lingers outside, stretching the evening into something that feels endless and golden.

"I have to admit," I say once the server leaves, "it’s been a while since I’ve done this. Afirst date, I mean."

She lifts a brow, curious. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Like… it’s been years." I laugh under my breath. "Back when dates were usually dinner and a movie. Not swiping on an app to meet your match."

"You’re doing fine so far.”

I grin, feeling several feet taller. It gives me the confidence. Casually, I reach into my pocket and withdraw a small pile of index cards.

Keeping them hidden on my lap, I ask the first question: “If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”

She pretends to ponder it seriously, tapping a finger to her chin. "Somewhere warm. Where winter doesn’t last seven months. Preferably with beaches. Like Hawaii or the French Riviera.”

“So you’re saying you want to leave Alaska?”

“No, of course not. This place has my heart.” She flashes another smile. “But the grass is always greener, you know?”

“Fair enough.”

She tilts her head. “How about you?”

Oh. I hadn’t expected her to turn the question on me.

“Anywhere with space," I say after a beat. "Big skies. Quiet. But near someone who wants to be there with me."

Her smile softens, and I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. I flip to the next card. "Favorite season?"

"Spring," she answers immediately. "It feels like starting over. Yours?"

I grin. "Spring too. Especially after a winter up here."

Her eyes light up and my gut clenches.

I glance at the next card. "What’s your go-to karaoke song?"

She scoffs. "I don’t do karaoke," she says. “I mean, unless I’m really tipsy. But when I do, I usually go for a classic. Like ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman!’"

I bark out a surprised laugh. "I’d pay good money to see that."

"You’d have to,” she challenges. “And you’d have to go first. What would you be singing?”

I pretend to consider it seriously. "Probably ‘Friends in Low Places.’ Something that usually gets the rest of the bar to sing, so no one can hear how bad I sound.”

She laughs again. It’s a sound so joyful, so rich, it’s fuel for my soul.

I “glance down at the next card. “If you could have dinner with any historical figure, who would it be and why?”

She squints at me. “This is starting to feel like a job interview.”

I freeze. Shit.

She leans closer, lowering her voice.v”Because if it is, I demand to know the benefits package."

I chuckle, relaxing slightly.

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