Page 29

“Yeah. This is how I dress, and you seem to think it’s some gimmick.”

He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Good one. See, this is one of the things I like about you. You’re ornery.”

Reaching across the center console, he took her hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing a kiss over the back before resting their joined hands on his thigh.

“Tell you what. I’ll pretend you weren’t trying to run me off, and you can pretend I didn’t arrest you. We’re just two people who are attracted to each other, getting to know one another.” He glanced at her. “Give it a shot? A real shot.”

For several seconds, she said nothing while staring at him from the passenger seat, chewing on her bottom lip as if she were waging some internal battle.

“I won’t deny that I think you’re handsome, but you have to admit we haven’t exactly gotten along so far.”

“True. But I’d still like to get to know you better, whatever the end result is.”

She studied him for another moment before releasing a long breath. “Okay. I can do that.”

Satisfied, he thought about their gift exchanges and knew, in his gut, she didn’t dislike him as much as she pretended. If she truly couldn’t stand him, she wouldn’t have kept sending those ridiculous gifts or put this much effort into trying to scare him off tonight. He didn’t point that out, though. Instead, he’d take the high road and let her come to that realization herself.

She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t pull her hand free either.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence.

Twenty minutes later, Grady turned into the crowded parking lot of a sprawling log-and-stone building with THE BRANDING IRON glowing in red neon above the entrance. Before he even found a parking spot, Amanda heard faint strains of country music from inside.

“A steakhouse. Really?”

“What’s wrong with a steakhouse?”

She slowly turned her head and stared at him. “You sent me a stuffed cow and asked me to dinner.”

“And specifically told you that you didn’t have to order steak.” His mouth twitched at one corner, telling her he knew damn well why she found his choice amusing. “I thought that was very considerate of me.”

“You would.”

Shaking her head, she reached for the door handle, but he stopped her.

“Don’t you dare.”

Her hand froze. “What?”

“I know you can open your own door. Humor me.”

Before she could argue, he climbed out and came around the SUV. She waited until he opened her door, then took his hand and let him help her down. The gold chains on her boots jingled as her feet hit the pavement, drawing his gaze down for a moment before he returned it to hers.

He bit his lip.

“Not. One. Word.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He closed the door and placed his hand on her lower back.

“You were thinking it.”

“Can’t arrest me for that.”

“You would know.”

His deep chuckle followed them toward the entrance, and she had to fight another smile. Dammit, this was not how tonight was supposed to go. She’d spent nearly an hour turning herself into an eighties fashion nightmare, and he seemed to be having the time of his life.

The Branding Iron was exactly what its name suggested. Rustic but not tacky, the restaurant had wide-plank floors, exposed beams, and enough old ranching equipment decorating the walls to stock a small museum. Peanut shells crunched beneath her ridiculous red boots as they followed the hostess through the crowded dining room. Beyond a wide opening on the far side of the restaurant, a four-piece band played country music in the adjoining bar. The music carried into the dining area, loud enough to add to the lively atmosphere without forcing everyone to shout over it.