Page 19 of Steeped In Problems (Badges & Baristas #3)
Chapter Ten
Tanner wasn’t the type to get nervous about a dinner date, fake or otherwise.
But for the entire afternoon, he’d done nothing but circle his living room, second-guessing the blue button-up he’d picked out.
It was one of only two he owned that could pass for “nice,” both gifts from his sister at different Christmases.
He considered, for the hundredth time, if the sleeves looked better rolled or down to the wrist. The mirror told him to quit fussing, but his gut said to try harder.
By the time he finally left his apartment, he’d changed his shirt twice and worn a permanent crease in the welcome mat.
He drove his old Chevy into town, cracked the window, and let the cool evening air slap sense into him.
This was supposed to be a play. An act. Something to get Kristy’s ex off her back, nothing more.
But it had been a long time since Tanner had played at anything romantically, fake or not.
He pulled up outside Kristy’s place ten minutes early, waited exactly eight minutes, then texted her: Outside. No rush.
His heart hammered while he waited. He watched two kids chase a dog down the sidewalk, an old man in slippers check his mailbox three times in five minutes, and the flicker of a porch light across the street. He counted seconds and tried not to look desperate.
The door to Kristy’s duplex opened. She stepped out, locking up behind her with one hand, holding a tiny purse in the other.
Tanner didn’t know a thing about women’s dresses, but even he could tell this one was something special—pale yellow, scattered with tiny blue flowers.
Her hair was down, curls tamed to something shiny and soft.
He’d seen her every day for months now, but this version was new.
He tried not to stare, failed, and then did it anyway.
He climbed out and met her at the curb. “You look nice,” he said, and immediately wanted to punch himself for how basic it sounded.
She smiled, anyway. “So do you. The blue is...very on-brand.”
He grunted. “A gift from my sister.”
“She has good taste.” She opened the passenger door and slid in, knees and ankles together in a way that made him feel like a lumbering bison.
He got behind the wheel. The air in the cab was thick with nerves. He fumbled for something to say, then just let the silence settle. That had always worked for him—quiet. Most people found it unnerving. Kristy just let it be.
“Do we need to go over our story again?” she asked after a few blocks, voice a little high.
Tanner thought about it. “You mean, like, first date details?”
“I mean, if we’re selling this, we need to be on the same page. Are we the type who does long walks in the park, or the kind who takes and posts photos online?”
He hadn’t even considered that. “Probably not the online one. I don’t even have Instagram.”
She grinned at him, quick and genuine. “Of course you don’t. You probably still use a flip phone.”
He bristled. “It’s a burner. I get less spam.”
Kristy bit her lip, holding in a laugh. “You ever done this before?”
“Pretend to be someone’s boyfriend?” He snorted. “No. Not a big market for that in Clear Mountain.”
She went quiet for a moment. “Me neither. Just—if I do anything too weird, let me know?”
He risked a glance her way. She was staring straight ahead, eyes set and mouth tight.
He wondered if the act was already wearing on her or if this was just pre-battle nerves.
He’d seen it before, in the faces of rookies right before their first real call.
Only this time, it wasn’t a domestic disturbance call, just an ex-boyfriend who refused to stay gone.
He merged onto the main road. Bella’s was only ten minutes away, but traffic was a mess—some parade had rerouted half the county through Main Street. Kristy drummed her fingers on her purse, then turned the conversation to safer ground. “So, what’s your favorite Italian dish?”
He squinted. “Probably lasagna.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course. So classic.”
“You asked.”
She giggled, and the tension broke. “I’ll order for you so you can try something new. You look like you’d get overwhelmed by too many options.”
He made a face but let her have it. Truth was, he hadn’t eaten at Bella’s since his last police department Christmas party, which felt like another man’s life at this point.
They pulled up outside the restaurant. Even at five minutes to open, the lot was packed. Tanner found a spot at the edge, double-checked the locks, and met Kristy on her side before she could open her own door.
She arched an eyebrow. “Chivalry?”
“I told you I was going to be the best fake boyfriend ever,” he told her with a lopsided grin.
She gave a quick, approving nod. “Good start.”
They walked up to the front entrance, and he felt the first prick of nerves hit him again.
Bella’s wasn’t fancy, but it tried hard.
White tablecloths, real candles in tiny glass holders.
The walls were covered in old black-and-white photos of the original owner’s family, all of them looking like they’d rather be anywhere else than frozen in a frame above a bunch of strangers eating spaghetti.
The lights inside were dim and gold, every window frosted with condensation and laughter.
He hesitated at the door, but Kristy just went in, all business, her sundress trailing a lemon-bright wake behind her.
The hostess was a woman Tanner recognized—she’d once been married to a local SWAT member and now, worked as Bella’s unofficial gossip line.
Perfect to carry word to Mark that Kristy was off the market.
She gave them both a once-over, smile widening.
“Tanner Blaze. What a surprise to see you here, and with a date no less. Table for two?”
He nodded. “Somewhere intimate, please.”
“Of course, right this way.”
As they walked, Kristy leaned in close enough to whisper, “You’re supposed to put your hand on my back.”
He stopped. “What?”
She tilted her head, a signal for him to look. Sure enough, the couples at every other table had at least one hand resting on a back, a shoulder, a knee. He felt like a moron.
He waited until they turned the corner, then moved in closer and placed his hand on the small of Kristy’s back. Her hair smelled like something citrus, and he could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric.
She shot him a look, soft and half-mocking. “Natural, act natural.”
He kept his hand there as they reached their table, a little corner booth with a view of the street. It felt easy after that, not forced at all.
The hostess left them with menus and a bottle of sparkling water. Kristy waited until she was gone, then grinned at him. “See? Not so hard.”
He grunted but didn’t argue. He opened his menu to distract himself, though if he had his way, he would stick with the lasagna.
Their waiter appeared all smiles and hair gel, and took their orders. Kristy ordered them a bottle of red wine. They kept it light. When the waiter left, Kristy leaned over the table, voice dropping. “I think we’re supposed to look into each other’s eyes.”
He rolled his. “You’re making this worse.”
She snickered. “You’re not so bad at this, you know.”
“You’re wrong. I’m horrible,” he admitted quietly.
Kristy shrugged. “That’s not true. Besides, you just have to be better than Mark.”
Tanner had no idea what to say to that. He’d seen guys like Mark—could spot them a mile off.
Didn’t matter if they wore a badge, a suit, or a fancy pullover.
They all shared the same way of talking over you like you were a speed bump in their perfect day.
He wanted to tell her she was better than that, but he figured she already knew. Maybe just needed reminding.
He shook his head and tried to focus on the menu, but her face lingered in his vision even after he looked away. He wondered how many people in the restaurant had already clocked them as a couple. He wondered if he wanted them to.
Their bottle of wine arrived. Kristy poured them both a glass, then held hers up for a toast. “To fooling the world.”
He tapped his glass against hers, careful not to spill. “To not getting caught.”
She laughed, then sipped, and the next few minutes passed in a haze of half-truths and improv.
They recounted stories from the shop, made up inside jokes, and pretended at memories.
He realized it was easier than he’d expected.
Maybe because he’d always been better at pretending nothing was wrong than talking about what was.
Eventually, Kristy set her wine down and glanced at him. “How are you so calm?”
He thought about it. “Spent a lot of years waiting in silence for things to get worse.”
She looked at him, something new in her eyes. “Doesn’t have to be like that, you know.”
He didn’t answer, but he let himself believe it for half a second.
Kristy finally broke the ice. “Do you think anyone here believes us?”
He looked around. “The hostess does. She already texted three people.”
She grinned. “You think she’s running a book on whether we’ll make it?”
“She’d make more if she did.”
Kristy sipped her wine, then set the glass down. “How did you end up in Clear Mountain?”
He hadn’t expected her to ask. Most people already knew his story or pretended they didn’t. “Grew up here. Family left after my dad died, but I stayed. Got on the force, never looked back.”
She nodded, like she understood. “You wanted to stay close to what you knew.”
“Yeah. Didn’t have much use for new places.”
She twisted her napkin again. “Do you miss it? Being a cop?”
He thought about lying, then decided he owed her more. “Every day. But that part of my life’s over.”
She didn’t push. Just nodded again, soft and slow.
He watched her for a second. “You ever think about going back to nursing?”
Kristy’s smile faded. “Sometimes. I loved saving people. But after a while, the losses outweighed the wins, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”