Page 68 of The Wedding Gift

“Becca, will you go out with me tonight? There will be no wine and no drinking, but I can promise you supper and a nice quiet evening where no one will barge in on us.” He smiled for the first time.

“I’d love to go with you. What can I bring to help with supper?” She returned his smile.

“Not one thing. I make a real mean ham-and-cheese sandwich, and I’ve got just the hideaway spot for us to visit.” He stood up. “We could leave from here when you get off work at five.”

“I probably should go home and get cleaned up if this is a date,” she told him.

“If you want to, you can lose the apron. If not, then you look pretty damn gorgeous in it.” He extended a hand to help her up.

Her fingers tingled the moment they touched his. One date, and then she’d make a decision and never look back with regrets whichever way it went. After the way she’d acted the night before, he deserved that much. When she was on her feet, he pulled her to his chest and kissed her—long, hard, and passionately.

Well, maybe two dates just to be sure, she thought when the kiss ended and he walked out of the winery without saying another word.

Chapter 8

Becca wasn’t sure what to think when Dalton came to get her for their date. He was driving the beat-up old ranch work truck. When he had told her she should just take off her apron, she hadn’t expected that they would go to a five-star restaurant or a dinner theater, but she did think maybe he would spring for his fancy club-cab vehicle.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.

“Somewhere secluded and so quiet you can hear the tree frogs singing,” he answered. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“I promise you’re going to love it, and before you ask, I’ve never taken anyone, male or female, there before. It’s my hidden place where I go to think,” he told her.

“I feel special,” she said.

“Darlin’, you are far more than just special,” he whispered softly before he closed the door.

This wasn’t her first rodeo when it came to pickup lines. She had worked in bars all over Nashville and fended off lots of guys when they brought what they thought was a game good enough to sweet-talk her into bed. What Dalton said didn’t affect her as much as his tone, and the way his warm breath caressed her neck when he spoke.

He drove through Terral, passing the elementary school on the right, Mama Josie’s café on the left, and then he crossed Highway 81, and drove through a cattle guard with HT welded onto the gate.

“What does that stand for?” she asked.

“Hard Time Ranch,” he answered. “The owner is a friend of mine, and he doesn’t mind if I cross his property to get to my hidey hole down by the river.”

She envisioned a place where they’d have to crawl back into a cave of some kind and hoped to hell there were no spiders or field rats in it. “The river, huh?” She pulled her phone from her purse, found the song they’d listened to the night before, and played it.

“Yep, and I do love that song,” he answered. “We’re going to the river to sail our vessels. I’ve got them ready in the back of the truck, along with our supper in a basket.”

She turned around and looked out the back window, but all she could see was a big basket and some chunks of wood. Maybe he was speaking symbolically instead of having a real vessel to sail.

The truck rattled and groaned when he drove down a rutted path toward the river. She was amazed when they passed a herd of white-tailed deer and a wild hog with a dozen little piglets following behind her. They flushed a covey of quail out of the path, and she watched them fly away, and then a bobcat with a couple of kittens watched them go by.

“Aren’t they the cutest things ever? I wonder what Grammie’s new babies would think of one of those,” Becca said.

“I’m not sure you could tame one of those any better than a cowboy can a wild Irish lass with a temper.” Dalton grinned.

“So, you think I’m a wild lass?” she asked.

“I saw a little of that in you last night, and truth is, I kind of liked it,” he admitted.

“I’m glad you like me just the way I am,” she said, nodding.

He braked and brought the truck to a stop. “Honey, I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. We’ll walk from here. It’s not far. I’m taking my boots off. I like to feel the sand beneath my bare feet like when I was a kid.”

She kicked off her shoes and tossed them in the bed of the truck along with his boots. He shoved the wood and some string down into a paper bag and picked up the basket. “See that willow tree over there with the limbs hanging in the water?”