“Let me get this right.” Missy stopped for a dramatic pause. “This guy’s a jerk to you and rude as can be, but now you’re going on a date with him?”

“It’s not exactly like that.” Paige cringed. Maybe she shouldn’t have complained so much about Wes before she’d known the full story. In doing so, she’d unfairly tainted his image to her sister. “He apologized and made things right. We went to dinner two weeks ago because he felt bad, and he was a perfect gentleman that night.”

Missy arched a brow. “What other secrets have you been keeping?”

“None. Promise.” She saw Missy’s doubt and sought to eradicate it. “I didn’t say anything because I know how you all would act. You’d read into it and think it was more than it was.”

“Obviously it was since you’re going on a date with him tonight.” Missy smirked.

“How was I to know I’d enjoy his company?” Paige shrugged. “It took me by surprise, but we’ve been talking since, and last night, he asked me to go out again. Besides, his niece will be with him, so it’s not like it’s a full date or anything.”

“Sure.” Her sister drew out the word. “I guess he can’t be too bad of a guy if he willingly took in his niece.”

“Don’t forget Mrs. Bryant had nothing but good things to say about him, and she can spot a bad egg from a mile away.” She had an innate desire to defend Wes after she’d previously spoken so poorly of him.

“Good point.” Crossing her hands on the table, Missy stared at her. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“It’s too early to tell.” She squirmed in her seat. “But the potential is there.”

A sparkle shimmered in Missy’s gaze. “You haven’t willingly gone on a date in two years since your twenty-sixth birthday.”

“That’s not true.” She ticked off names on her fingers. “There was Tom, then Andre, and Tyler.”

“And those were all blind dates Mom, and Aunt Linda, set you up with.”

“You win.” She tossed her hands in the air, signaling surrender. “But you hit an age when you decide there’s no point dating when you know there’s no connection. I’m too old to waste time on fruitless endeavors.”

“How do you know there’s no connection if you’ve never spent time with them?

Paige locked eyes with Missy, feeling every bit of their eight-year age difference. “As you get older, you learn. You’re more in tune with what you want out of a relationship, like a man who doesn’t live in his mom’s basement or doesn’t go out to bars every night. Certain characteristics are an automatic no, which greatly filters out the options.”

“Sounds like you’re too picky.” Missy sat upright, pressed her back to the wood dining room chair.

“There’s a difference between preferences and pickiness.” She winked. “For example, Wes has brown hair, and though I’ve always preferred men with lighter hair, I’m still going out with him. So there.”

Missy broke into laughter. “Like you’d ever be shallow enough to decline a date because you didn’t like his hair color.”

“Hey, I’ve seen other people do it.” She pushed away from the table and stood. “Come on, your lunch break’s almost over, and you still haven’t helped me find something to wear.”

“I have the perfect outfit in mind.” Missy left her seat and beckoned for Paige to follow her upstairs.

Her sister lived in the main house with their parents. Paige climbed the steps and turned left at the top of the stairwell. Went to the room they’d shared as children until Paige had moved out six years ago.

Missy opened the closet doors and withdrew a tunic-length maroon shirt with peasant sleeves. “Wear this and a pair of leggings.”

“I don’t have any leggings.”

“How are you my sister?” Missy strode to the side wall and rummaged in a drawer. She pulled out two pairs of leggings—one with geometric shapes and a pair of solid black ones. “Which ones do you like better?”

“My jeans?” She grinned at her sister whose fashion sense was much stronger than her own.

“Set the denim aside for one night, sister dear. I promise you’ll love these. They’re super comfortable.”

“The solid black ones then.”

Missy replaced the colorful pair in the drawer. “I knew you’d choose those.”

“What shoes should I wear?”

“Your black kid-skin boots or a pair of ballet flats.”

Paige scrunched her nose. “I lost my only pair of black flats and haven’t replaced them yet.”

“How’d you lose a pair of shoes?”

“Remember that conference we went to in August?” She waited for Missy’s nod, then continued. “The only thing I can figure is that I left them in the hotel although I called the lobby once I realized they were missing and no one turned them in.”

“You can borrow mine if you’d like.” She turned back to the closet and emerged fifteen seconds later with the shoes. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed the shoes, shirt, and leggings from Missy and tucked them under her arm. “Boots are more practical in this weather, but Wes probably thinks that’s all I own.”

“You’ll look great in whatever you wear.” Missy’s gaze traveled to the clock radio on her nightstand. “I have to get back to work, but you better call me tonight and tell me all the details.”

“I will. Thanks for your help and letting me borrow clothes.” She hugged her sister, then left the room, hurried down the stairs to run home.

She was experimenting with hairstyles when her phone rang. With one hand still holding her hair in a faux ponytail, she glanced at the screen. Wes was calling. She let her hair fall to her shoulders and answered his call.

“Hi there.” An automatic smile curved her lips. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

“Me too, but there’s a slight change of plans.” A hint of nervousness touched his tone. “Mom won tickets for a show tomorrow. One of those kid-geared live shows with cartoon characters and such.”

“That’s exciting. You’re taking Myla?”

“No. Mom and Dad are taking her, but it starts at nine-thirty and is an hour away. Rather than wake Myla early to get her ready, she’s spending the night at my parents’ house.”

Was he rescheduling? Her heart sunk, making her realize she’d wanted tonight more than she’d thought. “Did you want to take her to the pizza buffet another night?”

“We’ll do that soon, but I’d still like to go out with you tonight if you don’t mind it being only you and me. No kid.” She heard him take a deep breath and release it. “A real date.”

Happiness bubbled within her, returning her heart to its rightful place—maybe a little higher. “I’d like that.”

***

Several hours later, she sat at a corner table in a small bistro located in downtown Covington. A few bites of her Cobb salad remained on her plate, but she couldn’t eat anymore. She’d made the mistake of eating an entire mini-loaf of bread that was baked daily on the premise. Carbs were her weakness, and she didn’t regret the indulgence once bit except not being able to finish her main meal.

Wes laid down his fork, indicating he’d finished as well. “How was your salad?”

“Delicious. I was leery of trying the house dressing, but I’m glad I did.”

“What does it taste like?” He tilted his chin to the small dish it had come in. “I’m not much of an adventurer and stick with thousand island.”

“A mix of ranch and blue cheese, which surprised me that I liked it.”

“You don’t like those two?”

She shook her head. “I love ranch, hate blue cheese. Whatever they did to combine the flavors worked though.”

“Maybe I’ll try it next time. The office orders lunch from here at least once a week.”

“I’ve never been before, but I foresee more stops in the future.” She drank a sip of her water.

“I eat out way more than I should, but not so much since getting Myla.”

“Learning to cook now?”

A sheepish grin appeared. “Do I lose points if I confess my mom brings meals for me to freeze? But only since I took in Myla.”

“If you do, then so do I.” She twisted her napkin to keep her hands busy. “I told you how often I eat at the farm’s restaurant. To make it worse, on the days I don’t, I usually stop by my parents’ house and eat whatever mom cooked.”

“That’s different. It’s all on the same property.”

She laid the napkin on her plate. “For the record, I can cook. I make a cashew chicken that’s better than takeout.”

“One of my favorites.”

“I’ll make it for you one night, but I use the slow cooker, so I need advanced notice.”

“You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t hinting at an invitation.”

“I know, but the offer stands.” Strangely, she didn’t stop to consider he might not want to spend more time with her. The ease and comfort she experienced with him were too strong to be one-sided.

“I’ll remember that.” He grinned and removed his wallet from his pocket, slid out a card and placed it in the check holder. “And take you up on it soon.”

Her hands itched to remove several bills from her wallet and hand them over, but she already knew from their last dinner, Wes wouldn’t let her pay, not even the tip. Some women would be annoyed by his insistence, and though she’d gladly pay her own share, she had to admit that she liked him paying for her.

Maybe because her parents illustrated a prime example of a relationship where the man took care of the woman while always treating her with the utmost of respect, but Paige had never felt the need to prove her independence to the world.

She knew who she was, what she was capable of, and if a man wanted to treat her to a meal, then she’d accept the gesture with gratitude. She didn’t understand the offense some women took, and it made her think she’d been born in the wrong decade. Even Missy, whose ideas of gender equality differed from hers, appreciated shows of chivalry.

After their bill was paid, Paige gave Wes a smile. “Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it.”

He returned the smile with a heart-skipping one of his own and slipped the card back into his wallet. “My pleasure.”