Page 22 of Demon Loved
“It sounds like quite an honor,” he said, and she shrugged, then realized it probably had looked a little rude to be so dismissive of his comment.
“I suppose so,” she replied. “We do all have to be invited — it’s not the sort of thing you can just audition for. And there are some very good musicians here in the Verde Valley…and Flagstaff and Prescott and Payson. People come from all over.”
“But not Phoenix?” Bill asked, and she couldn’t help smiling.
“We figure Phoenix is big enough that it can take care of itself.”
His mouth quirked in response. “I suppose I can see that.”
They settled down to eat their vegetables — which had been roasted with balsamic vinegar and were positively divine — and soon enough afterward, the waiter came by with their pizza, which was pesto and chicken and was also heavenly.
Bill took a bite before giving an appreciative nod. “I can see why you would want to eat here.”
“I’ve never had a bad meal at Bocce,” Bree replied, which was only the truth. Also, while the food and the setting at The Asylum had been wonderful, it was a lot more relaxed here, and much more her style.
His lips twitched. “Neither have I.”
She shook her head at his joke but couldn’t help smiling a little in response. Yes, they both seemed more at ease today, although she couldn’t be sure whether that was due to their surroundings or the simple fact that this was their second date, and therefore they’d had a chance already to get a little acquainted with one another.
“I’m sure you must have had lots of good pizza in L.A., though,” she said. “It’s a foodie kind of place, isn’t it?”
For just a second, Bill looked almost panicked. But then he reached for his glass of wine and said in too-casual tones, “There’s lots of great food in Los Angeles. I think this pizza is on par, though.”
A normal enough response. And yet there had been that flash of fear in his deep green eyes, as if she’d asked him a question he wasn’t sure how to answer.
Could it be that he wasn’t from Los Angeles after all?
But why would he lie about such a thing?
Bree had no idea. Okay, if he was from some hillbilly place in the Deep South or something, then maybe he wouldn’t want to talk about it, and yet she didn’t think that was what was going on here. For one thing, Jerome wasn’t a place with a lot of pretense. It wasn’t as if Bill was trying to impress someone from Beverly Hills or Palm Beach or whatever.
If he was even trying to impress her at all. She still wasn’t entirely sure about that.
Better to let it go. She supposed she could have completely misinterpreted his expression. It wasn’t as though they’d known each other long enough for her to be confident in reading his moods.
She’d kind of like to be, though.
“I’m sure the chef would be glad to hear that,” she said, and now there was no mistaking the relief that passed over his handsome features.
“Another brother?” he asked, almost teasing, and she just had to smile.
“No,” she replied. “The chef here at Bocce is a woman. She’s been here forever.”
“Which would explain why the food is so excellent.”
After that, they went on to talk about some of the other restaurants in Cottonwood — not, Bree, thought, because she was angling for another date, but just because she thought it seemed like a neutral enough topic. Bill seemed interested in absorbing as much local area knowledge as possible, so the rest of their meal passed comfortably enough, with neither of them touching on any subjects that were even remotely problematic.
Once they were done with their meal, he suggested that they walk up and down Main Street so he could get a better look at Cottonwood’s historic downtown.
“There’s not a lot open right now,” she warned him.
Well, except the Copper Jackalope, a bar located right next to Bocce, or Kaktus Kate’s, another bar farther down the street.
Not that Bree could really imagine Bill at Kate’s. That was where the bikers tended to hang out, and although she’d gone slumming there with friends a few times and could attest that they made a mean Long Island iced tea, it didn’t seem like his kind of place.
“It’s fine if we can’t go into any of the shops,” he said. “I drove through here on the way up to Jerome, but I wasn’t able to get a good look at anything, so it would be nice to see the stores up close at least.”
“Then we’ll wander,” she replied. “And maybe you can get another taxi to bring you down here tomorrow so you can really explore.”
