Page 58 of Sweet Trouble
“Sure is,” he told her.
“Where are we going tonight?” she asked.
“Do you like Italian food?” he asked her.
“Of course,” she said.
“There’s a new place,” he said. “Well, new to you anyway. It’s been here for a few years. I made reservations for us.”
He glanced over, hoping she didn’t think he was trying too hard.
But she had the most beautiful smile on her face, like she wasn’t used to anyone making an effort for her.
The idea filled his chest with fury. But he eased his thoughts down, forcing himself to keep a calm eye on the road.
“How did Mari’s spelling test go?” he asked, choosing a subject he knew wouldn’t make anyone angry.
That launched Jillian into a happy rundownof all the news from the girls. Both had come home from school filled with excitement over a good week at school and an evening with their great-grandparents to look forward to.
“They’re such awesome kids,” Tripp said. “You’re really lucky.”
“I know,” Jillian said, shaking her head. “They’ve been so resilient. They were even happy for me to go on a date with you tonight.”
“I’m sure that’s because they know your grandparents will spoil them rotten,” Tripp said lightly, even though his heart was surging with happiness.
“They really like you,” Jillian said. “But I think you already knew that.”
“Well, I really like them,” Tripp said.
They drove on in silence for a few more minutes, until at last he pulled onto the bumpy little lane that would take them to Mia’s.
It wasn’t really new to the town anymore, but Tripp had never actually been to the restaurant before. It was way too fancy for someone who liked to eat a sandwich over the sink while he was still in his work clothes. But when Jillian agreed to a date, he’d wanted to be sure he knocked it out of the park.
Plus, no one would know him here, so no one would treat him like he was still the rambunctious kid everyone in town thought of him as. If he wanted to convince Jillian that he could be serious, it was better for them to be on neutral ground.
“Oh wow,” Jillian breathed, looking out the window at the glowing lanterns that lined the small road leading between the snowy pines.
“The owner was a big-time chef in New York,” Tripp explained. “So this place is kind of special. She sources a lot locally, even gets all her dairy supplies from our farm.”
He felt a little silly for boasting about it. But generations of Lawrences really had worked to keep the cows happy and the land producing nourishing grass, and he was proud of his honest labor.
“Tripp, what an honor,” Jillian said. “That speaks volumes about what you and your family do.”
“We love it,” he said simply.
“It’s good to do what you love,” she said, a smile on her lips that told him he wasn’t the only one who loved his work.
“Here we go,” Tripp said, pulling over. “Right on time.”
“Um, where is it?” Jillian asked.
“We go by horse-drawn sleigh from here,” he told her.
“No,” she said, her face softening.
“Hang on,” he told her, hopping out of the truck.
By the time he opened her door and helped her down into the snowy meadow, the sound of sleigh bells was in the air.
