Page 58 of Small Town Sash

"Never pegged you for a red wine kind of guy," Hadley teased, perusing the menu.

"I'm full of surprises," Braden jested back as the server returned with their wine.

He poured them both a glass, then settled the bottle on the side of their table before reciting the specials.

"I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs," Braden ordered.

Hadley smiled and snapped her menu shut. "And I'll have the chicken Alfredo."

"Very good," the server said before scurrying off.

"Is the spaghetti a childhood favorite?" Hadley asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Actually, yeah." Braden leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Mom made it every Friday night. It was our thing, especially after Dad took off on us."

"Family traditions," Hadley nodded, a wistful smile dancing on her lips. "We had Taco Tuesdays at my house. I always overloaded mine until they fell apart. Once my dad was gone, though, my mom stopped. She thought there were too many calories and switched to salad Tuesdays. It didn't have the same ring to it, but I learned to live with it."

"She has a thing about food, doesn't she?" Braden pressed gently.

"Oh yeah, she would be furious if she knew I was eating Alfredo tonight. She would be like, 'Hadley, do you know how much fat is in that cream sauce? Remember, a moment on your lips, a lifetime on your hips.'"

"Good thing your mother isn't here because I'd tell her that you have the right to eat whatever you want. She probably wouldn't like that either," he stated with a chuckle.

Hadley shook her head. "No, she wouldn't, but I'd pay to see you say it to her."

Their laughter mingled in the warm air of the outside patio as they shared stories of his sibling rivalries and her treehouse escapades with the neighbor kids; the initial awkwardness melted into a comfortable rhythm.

"Ever thought about a treehouse rescue mission?" Hadley asked, a playful glint in her eye.

"Dash would probably love that," Braden answered, warmth spreading through him at the mention of his golden retriever partner.

"Aw, he's adorable," Hadley cooed, leaning closer to see better. "You're really lucky to have him as a partner. You should have brought him along."

"Really? You think so?"

Hadley nodded. "I love dogs. My mom never let us have one because we were always traveling for pageants. But now that's over, I was thinking of getting a teacup Yorkie. Candace has a toy poodle named Lace, and she's so sweet. They could play together while we're working at the dress shop."

"I can see that," Braden responded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "A tiny, yet stylish, furry companion for Designer Hadley Wilder."

"Oh, be careful, Sergeant Braden Harding," Hadley playfully warned, waving a finger in his direction. "You make it sound like I only care about its appearance. A Yorkie would be good company."

"Fair enough," Braden conceded, lifting his hands in surrender. "And Dash would finally have someone to boss around."

"Hmm..." Hadley rested her chin on her palm pensively. "That's a good point. Maybe they could become friends."

"Only one way to find out," Braden said, lifting an eyebrow suggestively.

Hadley met his gaze with a gleam in her eye. "Are you suggesting a puppy playdate?"

"Well," he replied, leaning back in his chair with an air of nonchalance. "If Dash approves, maybe we'd have to keep hanging out for their sake."

"I suppose we'd have no choice then," she agreed with a laugh.

Their food arrived just then, piping hot and enticingly fragrant. They dug in with unabashed gusto. The conversation continued between bites about family traditions and favorite recipes. It was a night of genuine laughter and shared experiences. Sharing bites of food and laughter with Hadley felt easy—something he hadn't experienced in a long time.

Dinner concluded with shared tiramisu, their forks playfully dueling for the last bite. A glance at his watch told Braden it was time for the next act.

"Ready to laugh 'til your sides hurt?" he asked, rising from the table.

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