Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [52]
Also David had asked her out again—date number three, which fulfilled her father’s stipulation. But she wasn’t a fool. A person couldn’t count on a winter’s reprieve to hold out much longer than a week.
Katy and David eyed each other over a plastic red rose. The cozy Italian place with its white vinyl tablecloths was the type where waiters could be heard calling out their orders and the clinking of dishes filled any break in the music, a place where David didn’t look out of place in his jeans and button-down shirt.
He snapped open his menu and asked, “Know much about Italian food?”
“I know spaghetti and lasagna. Love them both.” Katy relaxed in the soft black booth and cast him a smile.
“Lasagna…number three on the menu.” He set the menu aside. “Since this is our third date, that sounds like a good fit, don’t you think?”
The pulse-pounding question caught her off guard, and she peeked at him above her own menu. Was he goading her? His eyes shone with something she couldn’t quite read. Straightening, she set down her menu and took a sip of her water. Only she choked. Clutching up a red napkin, she struggled not to send water spewing across the table at David. Quickly she unrolled the napkin and dumped the silverware, pressing the cloth to her face. When she finally could breathe again, she peeped at him through watering eyes. Was he goading? Or just naive?
He looked concerned. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
The waiter came, and David gave him their orders. When they were alone again, he asked, “So you love lasagna? What else do you love?”
“Clean black cars,” she said.
“Is that why you go out with me? Because you like my car?”
“No. I’m here because I wanted to see where Lil works.” When she saw her teasing had hit its mark, she grinned. “And because you’re a really nice guy.”
His gaze told her he didn’t believe that for a moment.
“So what do you love?” she asked him, but instantly knew what he would reply.
“Shiny black cars,” they said in unison and then both laughed. “What about farming?” she asked.
“I like driving the big machinery, but it’s pretty dull in the winter. Ivan and I get along good, though. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be doing something else by now.” He studied her a moment, then ventured, “It’s not the farming I like, it’s the driving. You know, anything with a motor. Brrrm-brrrm.”
She smiled.
He leaned close, and his aftershave wafted over her, warm and inviting as his secretive hazel eyes. “I like engines. Speed. You ever go to the races?”
When he leaned back again, the scent was gone but there remained a more vivid impression of the workings of the man across the table, one that might explain the mischievous glint that often appeared in his eyes. Was it a desire for something more than the ordinary, and might that be fast cars? In her imagination, she saw David yanking his gearshift down and racing his shiny black beast down some country road. “No. You drag race?”
“Now that would be breaking the law,” he grinned. The smell of garlic, and the appearance of their salad and a basket of buttery breadsticks instantly commanded their appetite and attention.
He passed her the basket then said offhandedly, “How’s the doddy house coming?”
The warm bread melted in Katy’s mouth. Savoring it, then swallowing, she said, “We’re moving in next weekend.”
“We missed your friend Jake last Saturday at the cleanup. Was he working at your place?”
She couldn’t miss the jealous tone of David’s voice and felt instantly defensive. “He did help us paint last Saturday.” She tried to make her tone cheerful. “And we finished that today.”
A glance across the table caught David’s jaw tensing. He’d always been so kind and attentive that she found his resentful behavior unsettling. In fact, he was ruining