Jackie smiled at Scott across the candle-lit table as a sixty-something waiter with a salt and pepper pompadour poured Chianti for each of them. It was exactly the kind of atmosphere Jackie adored. As soon as theyd entered the tiny restaurant, shed had been enveloped in the aromas of garlic and tomato and fresh-baked bread.
Scotts eyes sparkled as he smiled back at her. She shook her head to shake off the ghosts of embarrassment and self-doubt shed felt at the bar in Florida. There was no mistaking what was happening here. Scott liked her. And what was more, she liked him.
Take it slow, Jackie, she told herself. Enjoy the moment.
Aloud, she said, This is such a cool place. And the food smells amazing.
Scott nodded. Wait until you taste it. I always think these little mom and pop places are worlds better than the fancy restaurants.
Over chicken parmesan, Jackie asked about Scotts family. He shrugged lightly. We were never what youd call close.