Chapter Seven
1073 Words
“Before you ask,” Angus piped in, “Hamish knows what his sister’s like, but you know he’ll never speak ill about her.”
Kade nodded.
As it should be.
“Fi?” Kade leaned forward. “I promise that if I meet someone who is a good fit for me and the clan, I won’t wait, all right? Even if she’s not my mate.”
Connall frowned at his sister.
Fiona grimaced. “I can’t ask you to make that promise, Kade.”
“No, you can’t,” Connall said, and faced Kade. “And you shouldn’t be making a promise like that.”
“The promise is mine to make, Con.”
“Aye,” Connall agreed. “Just don’t sell yourself short.”
Angus rose to his feet and pulled Fiona with him. “I think I should get your sister home. She needs to sleep.”
Fiona gathered her purse and coat. Kade walked them to the door, hugging his sister, even though he knew she was still mad at him. She wanted to be settled with Angus. He understood that. But his job was not to please her, not this time. He had to do what was best for his people.
He closed the door and made his way back to the living room. Connall was on the couch, holding a couple of beers he’d retrieved while Kade said his good-byes.
“You read my mind,” Kade said as he took the one Connall offered.
“I do that.”
Kade chuckled. “You don’t need to hang around if you’ve got somewhere to be.”
Connall shrugged. “Here works.”
Kade grinned and took a swig of his beer. He liked that answer.
* * *
Samantha collected her messages from the front desk and found a note from Cole. She called his room and agreed to join him for dinner Sunday night… reluctantly. He pointed out that she needed to eat anyway, and since she’d already bowed out of drinks the night before, she didn’t feel she could blow him off again, especially since he’d saved her sanity on the flight.
They decided on Hadrian’s, which was the Balmoral’s casual restaurant of choice. Sam took care with her appearance, dressing a little nicer than she may have needed to, but her mother always told her it was better to be overdressed than under. Plus, Cole was cute. Even if he didn’t make her heart race, he made her feel comfortable, and that was a big deal in her book.
She arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, to find Cole waiting for her. He wore dark jeans, a black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and a vest. He looked more like a rock star than a cop. She smiled, and he made his way over to her, leaning down to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Hi,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. You look nice as well.”
“Our table is ready if you are.”
Samantha nodded. “Definitely. I’m starving.”
They followed the hostess to their table and Cole held Sam’s chair while she made herself comfortable. He sat down and picked up the wine list.
Within seconds, he laid it down and patted the top of the leather menu. “I don’t know why I’m looking at this. I don’t know anything about what goes with what. Give me a beer list any day. Beer goes with everything.”
“Do you even like wine?” she asked.
“Sometimes.”
“I’ll just plan on ordering a glass of something with the meal then,” she said.
“Are you a wine connoisseur?”
She smiled. “Kind of.”
“In that case perhaps a bottle might be better.” Cole leaned his arms on the table. “Can I trust you not to order the four-thousand-dollar 1865 merlot?”
Sam gasped. “There’s an 1865 Merlot? Do you know how rare that is?”
“I guessed… based on the price tag.”
“Right.” Sam felt her cheeks heat and she stared back down at the wine list, fighting the urge to run.
Cole laid his hand over hers and she glanced up at him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d order a bottle. If I don’t like it, you can drink it all.”
Sam pulled her hand from his and slipped it into her lap. “Plying me with wine so soon?”
He chuckled. “Am I that transparent?”
Sam had never been good at flirting, but she’d promised herself she’d try to make some changes. She supposed this was as good a time as any.
The waiter arrived and took their drink orders. Cole decided on a local ale and Sam went with water in order to save herself for the wine. After discussing options, she decided on a relatively new Pinot Noir their server suggested, hoping she wouldn’t be disappointed. She hated bad wine even more than bad food.
When the server arrived with Cole’s pint, Sam wished she’d ordered one. Cole pointed to the glass and smiled. “Want to try?”
Sam shook her head. “I have a rule never to mix alcohol. I’d have a wicked headache tomorrow, and that’s just not a good idea, especially starting a new job.”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” He grinned as he took a sip. “It is good, though.”
Sam groaned. “Thanks for rubbing it in.”
“Next time, we’ll stick to beer.”
“Next time, huh?”
He smiled. “Well, I suppose it depends.”
“On?”
“The answer to my next question.”
Sam grinned. “Ask away.”
“We’ve determined you know your early ’80s television, but do you like football?”
“I love football.”
“Good answer. If tonight goes well, football and beer are on me.”
Sam wrinkled her nose. “What if it doesn’t go well?”
“You’re on your own, sister.”
“Great. Now I’ll be dreaming about pizza, beer, and the 49ers,” she grumbled.
Cole choked on his drink. “49ers? I was not expecting that! How did a southern girl become a fan of a California team?”
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