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Oh, man. She was a bulldog, and I needed to get in there before it went further. I made my entrance into the living room, intent on saving Carrie from what was inches from an interrogation.

“Hey, you,” I said.

Carrie looked up happily, her eyes dancing. Seeing me had done that, and my heart squeezed pleasantly. “Hi.”

“I see you’ve met Grace. She’s…inquisitive.”

She nodded. “In the best way. We’re getting to know each other.”

“Do you get to know a lot of people? When was your last relationship?” Grace asked, eyes narrowed.

I stared. “Grace.”

She rolled her lips in and relaxed. “Too much?”

“Probably so.”

“Just trying something new.” She held up her phone. “But would you look at that? Emory’s outside to pick me up.” She stood. “You two have fun. Don’t stay out too late.”

I smiled, hands clasped in front of me. “You got it.”

She looked from one of us to the other. “Safe sex is best.”

I covered my eyes. “Grace. Just…no.”

“Sorry.” She held up a hand in apology, tossed in a smile, and waved before slipping out the door.

“She can be a whirlwind,” I told Carrie once we were alone. “And she’s growing up incredibly fast.”

“Well, she seems pretty great to me. She loves you. Also, can we pause just for a moment? Because the way you look tonight is…” She exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Just…yeah.”

Oh, I was enjoying this. “Carrie. I do believe you’re blushing a little.”

“You do that to me.” She shook her head, and I admired the manner in which her sleek black cocktail dress hugged each subtle curve. The dip in the front offered only a conservative glimpse of cleavage, but I knew innately that I’d be preoccupied with the hint all night, as well as the way that blond hair, partially swept up, fell softly as if she’d meant for it to tickle her neck and shoulders. I hoped I’d be kissing those later.

For now, I took her in, pure elegance. And not only that, but she wasmydate. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around that. Pride and happiness mingled.

“What?” she asked, angling her head with a smile, her eyes never leaving mine in that flirty, lighthearted way. Anticipation pinged.

“Just admiring my view.”

She held out her hand. “Shall we continue this appreciation session over some sinful wine and food? This place has a spinach dumpling appetizer that you have to try. I want to watch your face when you do.”

I placed my hand in hers. “I’m all yours.” I meant it as a casual, fun reference to the evening ahead of us, but we both heard the words and their gravity.

Something shifted behind her eyes, and she softened. “Yeah?” The question came with unmistakable vulnerability that I didn’t often see from her.

“Yeah,” I said, attempting to communicate the depth of my feelings through that one little word. She seemed to understand. For a moment, we just lost ourselves in each other until she lifted her hand to my cheek and cradled it. We exchanged an important smile and headed out for the night.

Over dinner, I fell for her even more.

The soft lighting, gentle music, and amazing food didn’t hold a candle to the company. Carrie enchanted. I adored her witty quips just as much as her sage advice. My favorite, though, was the way she flirted, sometimes overtly, but mostly she fell on the subtle side. A soft squeeze to my knee as we waited on our food. A wink when the conversation hit a lull. Or sometimes when she’d catch my eye and just say, “Hi,” in that quiet little voice she’d adopt, the one that said we were the only two people in the world. I’d never adored that word so much.

“How’s your dinner?” I asked. She’d ordered the pasta in white wine asiago sauce, and the little noises she made upon first tasting it told me it had been a good selection.

She gestured to her plate, still piled high with pasta. “I’m sad because I can’t eat it all and want to.”

“Well, your pout is admirable, so I bet the pasta understands. You can take it home with you. Bonus pasta. In an unfortunate turn of events, I don’t have the same option.”