Page 71 of Three Steps Behind

“We”—he tugged Bristol closer—“would love that.”

“Excellent.” She offered a half bow. “Right this way.”

Dalton held out her chair, and Bristol slipped into it. It was the same table they always ate at, but as she looked around, she noted at least three new waitresses.

She took the open menu Holly handed her. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Miss Bristol.”

Had they met?

“Miquel told me you two were coming. The chef has planned something very special for you both tonight.”

“Thank you, Holly.” Dalton pinned his gaze on her, and she quickly backed away and returned to her stand, finally answering the trilling phone.

The scent of fresh, yeasty focaccia bread, ripe tomatoes, and basil hung in the air as lively conversation swarmed around them.

“Busy tonight.” She studied the crowd. Mainly a male clientele.

A young woman—no more than twenty, she’d guess—approached their table with a bottle of wine. “Chateau Ste. Michelle?” She held the bottle at an angle in one hand while sliding her other along it in display. “Chef Leon’s recommendation.”

Dalton gestured for her to pour, but lines creased the side of his mouth. Impatience? Interesting.

“I’m Bristol.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She half bowed again.

“You’re new since I was last here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you are?”

The young lady looked at Dalton, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Tori.”

“Nice to meet you, Tori,” she said as the woman poured their wines, then quickly retreated from the table.

“To you being back where you belong.” Dalton clinked her glass with his.

She took a sip, then setting the glass down, smiled. “And there’s no place I’d rather be.”

He smiled back. It appeared genuine.

Did he actually like her? Care about her? How could a monster like she’d witnessed last night also be this congenial, thoughtful man beside her?

“I don’t think we’ll need our menus,” he said, taking hers. “Sounds like Leon is making us a very special meal.”

“How lovely.” She scanned the room.

He took her hand, caressing her fingers, then his brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” She fixed her gaze on him, smiling. “Just happy to be back here. Prison food is the worst.” Which he’d be tasting soon enough, she hoped.

He laughed. “I can’t imagine.” He continued caressing her hand, rubbing circles along her palm, which she used to love. But now it tightened her chest, tensing her body.

Relax or he’ll see right through you.