Page 26 of #Awestruck

The hostess set down two menus and promised to send our waiter in. I went over to the windows to better take in the view.

All day long I had wondered: What would he say? What would I say? What would happen on this sort-of date? Some part of me was scared. Anxious. I put my hand over my stomach, willing it to calm down.

It didn’t help when Evan suddenly entered the room and said, “Just so you know, technically I got here first. I just stepped out for a minute. But I went ahead and ordered some appetizers, if that’s okay.”

Was this some sort of competition? Who was the most on time? I turned around to see Evan in a dark-navy suit that fit him just as well as the last suit I’d seen him in. His hands were in his pockets, and he rocked slightly on his feet. Almost like he was ... nervous.

Evan Dawson, nervous? The man who played a highly intense game every week to sold-out stadiums and millions of viewers all over the country? He was praised for having nerves of steel, for never rushing, no matter how many defensive linemen were closing in on him. How could he be nervous right now?

Had I made him nervous?

“These are for you,” he said. He picked up a big bouquet of flowers that had been placed on a side table and handed them to me.

“Oh. Thank you.” I’d never had a man bring me flowers before. They were a mixture of pink and purple and white. I recognized the roses but not the other ones. They looked expensive.

I set the bouquet down on the floor next to my feet. One, because I didn’t know what else to do with it. It wasn’t like I could put it in water. And two, because all morning and afternoon I’d been telling myself that I had to shore up my defenses. Put my armor back on. Not let Evan Dawson in with his charm and smile counting and devastating good looks. I had a job to do, and I couldn’t forget it.

And all my good intent nearly went out the window when he said, “You look really beautiful tonight.”

I could actually feel my heart soften as it sped up at his words. Sarcasm was my only defense. “Am I supposed to be impressed by all this?” I asked as I sat in my chair quickly, before he could help me. “The expensive flowers, the swanky restaurant?” The compliments?

My snark actually seemed to make him relax. Like he could deal with me better in my natural state. He sat down across from me, draping his linen napkin across his lap. “You don’t have to be impressed by anything. But feel free to try and be civil.”

This was the problem with eating at a restaurant so fancy. I didn’t know which fork to pick up and stab him with.

But even I had to admit I begrudgingly admired the fact that he never cowered when I got snarky and gave as good as he got.

“I don’t remember you always being this sarcastic,” he added.

My boss wanted me to not aggravate him and get him on my side, but I couldn’t help myself. “I didn’t used to be a lot of things. I’ve changed a lot in the last ten years. And I’m not always sarcastic. Sometimes I’m eating. Or sleeping.”

He let out a short laugh. “I’d bet all of my Super Bowl rings that you’re sarcastic while you sleep. Dinner’s on me tonight, so please order whatever you’d like.”

I probably should have protested and said I could pay for myself, but I figured he could afford it. I opened my menu, grateful for the chance to block him out, if only for a couple of minutes. Like most of the riverside restaurants in the area, Rodrigo’s specialized in steak and seafood. I looked at the ridiculously expensive surf-and-turf option and considered ordering three of them. Just to see what Evan would say.

There were also quite a few French dishes I didn’t recognize. A note in the menu said the new head chef had trained at a swanky culinary school in Paris. I decided to stick with food I could pronounce.

Our waitress entered the room and introduced herself as Jeannie. She said our appetizers were on the way and offered to get us a drink. I ordered water, and Evan did the same. I wanted all my wits about me, plus I was driving. Better not to take any chances.

“Are you ready to order?”

I said I was, and Evan nodded. I got a filet mignon, while Evan, to my private amusement, chose the surf and turf.

Jeannie said she’d return shortly with our drinks and appetizers. Evan thanked her, smiling, and she tripped over her own feet as she left the room.

Which I totally got.

Unfortunately.

As I sat in this romantic candlelit room, the moonbeams bouncing off the river outside, the man across from me looking like he’d just stepped out of a man’s high-fashion magazine, I again reminded myself to get my armor and defenses back in place. Because he was doing much too good of a job of slowly dismantling both. I was going to hear whatever he had to say, and then it would be done. I was finished letting him lease so much space in my head. If I kept this up, he’d become a joint owner of my brain.

“You graduated from UO, right?” he asked.

How did he know that? Sister interference, or had he looked me up online? “I did.”

“And where are you working now?”

What should I say? Should I lie? I hadn’t prepared for this question. If I told him where I worked, would he somehow make the connection?

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