Tied with Me (With Me in Seattle, #6)(16)

“Water for me,” he replies. “Tell me more.”

“I had a few years where I gave my parents a run for their money. I got this”—I point to the bright flowers on my right shoulder—“on my twentieth birthday.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I wasn’t stupid enough to get something like Tweety Bird or something.”

“Do the cherry blossoms mean something to you?”

“I thought they were pretty. And, trust me, that was a time in my life when I didn’t think much about me was pretty.”

He tilts his head to the side and narrows those blue eyes on me, but I look down at my menu, avoiding his gaze.

Why did I say that?

Rather than push for more, he turns his attention to his menu, and the waitress returns with drinks and to take our order.

Twilight is just beginning to set in, and the lights on the Space Needle begin to glow.

“I love the Space Needle at night,” I murmur.

“The view from the top is amazing,” he agrees.

“I’ve never been to the top.”

His gaze whips to mine. “Never?”

“Nope.” I shake my head and take a sip of my drink. “I’ve only lived here for about five years.”

“Where are you from?”

“A small town in Wyoming.”

“Is your family there?”

“Yeah.” I nod slowly and drag my fingers down the beading condensation on my glass. “My parents and sister are all there. I have lots of extended family, too.”

“So why are you here?”

“Because I like the city. I came here for culinary school and never went back.”

“Do you visit?”

“Sure, about once a year. My mom spends the whole week I’m there begging me to move back, giving me the guilt trip for being so far away.”

“So she does the mom thing,” he replies with a wink.

“Big-time.” I nod. “I love them, but there are only about twelve hundred people in that town. What would I do there forever? I like it here. This is my home. I can visit them.”

His eyes are warm as he watches me. “I’m glad you came here.”

His voice is soft and low and like warm honey. He’s such a nice guy. He hasn’t been pushy or demanding at all.

Is this really the dominant man I knew a few weeks ago?

Our food is delivered, and we continue with small talk throughout the meal, and when we’re finished and we step out in the warm Seattle evening, I take a deep breath and rub my belly.

“God, I’m full.”

“You eat like a champ,” he replies with a wide grin.

“I know.” I scrunch my nose. “I’m gonna need an extra mile on the treadmill tomorrow.”

“Let’s work some of it off now.” He leads me toward the heart of the center. The whole space is lit up, and people are milling about. Kids are skipping, yelling, crying. Cotton candy stands, ice cream stands and candied nut stands are positioned about.

“How about an ice cream?” he asks.

“We’re supposed to be working calories off, not adding to them,” I remind him with a laugh. “How about an iced tea?” I suggest, pointing to a nearby barista.

“Good idea.”

“Officer Montgomery!” a little middle-aged woman exclaims from behind her espresso machine. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. You never visit me anymore.”

“It’s detective now, Mrs. Rhodes.” He grins and winks at the older woman. She’s old enough to be his mother.

And she looks completely smitten with him.

“Who is your lady friend?” she asks with a soft smile.

“This is Nic.” Matt settles his hand on my back, introducing me to the kind woman. “Nic, this is Mrs. Rhodes. She makes the best coffee around.”

“Of course I do,” she replies. “But you don’t ever come to get any.”

“Well, you said you were going to leave Mr. Rhodes and run away with me, but you never did that either. You broke my heart.”

“Oh, now you stop that, young man!” She shakes her finger at him, but her eyes are shining with humor. “You’re going to make people talk.”

I can’t help but giggle at their banter. Matt is charming and most likely making Mrs. Rhodes’ year.

“What can I get for you, darling?” she asks me kindly.

“Just an iced tea, please.”

“Do you want me to sweeten it?”

“No, thank you,” I reply.

“And for you, troublemaker?” she asks Matt, who laughs delightedly.

“I’ll have the same.”

She fills our drinks, and when she tries to pass them over the counter, Matt steps behind and takes them from her, then leans in and kisses her cheek.

“If you ever need anything, you have my number.”

“You’re a good boy, detective.”

He smiles softly and hands me my drink, waves at Mrs. Rhodes, and we are off again, wandering around the Seattle Center.

“She is smitten with you,” I inform him.

“Jealous?” he asks me with a wolfish smile.

“No.” I giggle. “I liked her.”