Page 44 of Digging Up Love
“Are you working tonight?” If she was, he’d take that as a sign, run straight back to the motel and get his head on strai—
“No, I’m on Saturday and Sunday.” Panting, Alisha pushed her headband back farther. “Why?”
Halftime’s up. Now or never.“Would you like to go grab a bite to eat? I’m not in the mood for cold cuts from my mini fridge.”
There it was, stretched between them, tenuous as spider’s silk: the first time he’d asked a woman out in over five years. Something shifted inside him, like a bone out of joint pressed back into alignment. Painful relief. But if she said no, he might have to become a monk, because he could not handle a flat-out rejection right now, not from Alisha.
She sniffed, nostrils flaring, then gave him another heart-stopping smile, the light in her eyes putting the sun to shame. “Yeah, I’d be up for that.”
“Great!” His heart soared, orbiting somewhere in the upper atmosphere.
“Full disclosure—as you may have noticed, there’s only two options here in town. My grandpa’s restaurant and the Back Forty. You okay with a greasy burger and frozen fries?”
“Is this the competition talking?” He smiled.
“Caught me.” She grinned. “Their burgers are dynamite. But trust me on the fries.”
Quentin shrugged. “Who needs fries when you’ve got a great burger, anyway?”
Alisha cocked her head, eyes wide, and he laughed. “Okay, so fries are nonnegotiable. Noted. Is that a deal-breaker, or would you like to join me for dinner?”
She nodded, pulling her lip between her teeth again, then said, “Not a deal-breaker in this case.” Did that mean what he thought it meant? “Just lemme get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
A yes? A yes!
She jimmied her car door, her back to him and his beaming face. “Want a ride back to the Hawk’s Roost?”
He needed to hit pause and regain his cool before he did something insane, like try to kiss her, and ended up scaring her back into her shell for good. “Nah, gotta finish out my run.”
“Knew I was slowing you down.” She turned and shook a finger at him. He opened his mouth to deny it, but she smiled and got into the car. “See you in a jiffy.”
Quentin waved, then picked up his jog, face alight. He could do this. Dating Alisha wouldn’t mean putting the dig at risk, right? At this point, he might be willing to go for it anyway.
CHAPTER 16
ALISHA
Alisha stepped into the Back Forty, and at least half a dozen people waved. She winced. Jeez, it was like hillbillyCheersin here. Life in a farm town meant you had twelve people on speed dial with pickups or tractors to dig you out when your car got stranded in a snowdrift. But if you wanted to go on a date without a live audience like a contestant onThe Bachelor, tough luck.
Not that this was a date. Just two acquaintances getting to know each other better.
Over a meal.
Okay, so categorically a date.
Butterflies, dormant since she’d left Quentin by the lake, took flight again in her midsection. Even though she’d stubbornly resisted country music indoctrination, the nineties country that twanged from the jukebox enfolded her like a worn denim jacket to soothe her ragged nerves.
Running clammy palms down the back of her sundress, she double-checked that the hem wasn’t tucked up into her panties. That had happened before. More than once. Alisha searched the familiar faces and found one that stuck out like a Nike ad in a sea of John Deere commercials.
Chelsea, Nicole, and Amber surrounded Quentin where he sat at the bar, hands on their hips, flipping their glossy hair and fluttering heavily mascaraed lashes, hawks circling fresh meat. Engulfed by a fierce urge to go stake her claim, she pressed a palm to her stomach, forcing herself to count her breaths instead.
Not like she wasjealous. Not at all. Just eager to pick up where they’d left off. When Quentin asked her out, her yes had sprung from pure survival instinct. She couldn’t take another second of the self-inflicted torture she’d lived through all week, with him closer than ever but out of reach.
What a waste those days of silence were, in retrospect. She hadn’t imagined things, after all—he was into her. Grown-out twists, big arms, and all. And try as she might to ignore him, man, oh man was she into Dr.Quentin Harris. Crushing on him, hard core. And not in the mood to share his attention.
Land sakes, she sounded whiny. Hawksburg ladies couldn’t be blamed for noticing him. The last single guy who’d shown up was old man Grady’s long-lost son, who’d rolled into town with a drinking problem and a frazzled beard that brushed the top of his potbelly. And Quentin’s tall, lean frame and movie-star smile would stop traffic on the Magnificent Mile, let alone the four corners of Hawksburg.
Just then, his eyes caught hers, and the butterflies combusted into fireworks in her chest. He nodded at the women and pushed back from the bar. His silver gaze remained trained on her, intoxicating in its intensity, and her reasons for avoiding him evaporated in a sizzle of steam. He wound his way through the maze of tables, a kelly-green polo hugging his chest, dark jeans slung low on his hips, a bottle in each hand.
