Only Yours (Fool's Gold #5)(61)

There was Montana. While a part of him wanted to see her dressed up, wanted to spend the evening with her, maybe even dance with her, he had his doubts about this kind of event.

“I haven’t decided.”

Dr. Duval’s gaze was steady. “Let me know either way, so we can accommodate your guest at the table.”

She left.

Simon drew in a breath. What he should do for Montana was at odds with what he wanted to do for himself. He didn’t usually indulge in moral dilemmas. But then he didn’t usually indulge himself with women like Montana.

DENISE WAS GETTING a little concerned that the people at the winery tasting room were going to start charging her rent. She supposed she should find a second place for her string of hideous first dates, but the tasting room was so convenient. They served “small bites” of food, the wine was excellent and she doubted there was a better view in a fifty-mile radius. All of which were very helpful when one was meeting strange men.

Her latest first date was with a man named Art. They’d met online, something she didn’t usually do, but…desperate times and all that. He’d been in the “over fifty” section. No more younger men for her.

As she walked into the tasting room, she searched for a man who looked like the picture she’d seen on her computer. He’d had nice eyes and slightly graying hair that was a little curly.

“Denise? I’m Art. Nice to meet you.”

It was all she could do to keep her mouth from falling open. The man standing in front of her was barely her height, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a few wisps of white hair. She saw some resemblance to the man in the picture she’d been sent, but the man in front of her was more his father than anything else. She’d been looking for a guy in his fifties. Her date had to be pushing seventy.

“Art?”

“Yep. Nice to meet you. I’m a little surprised.”

He was surprised? If they had a contest about that, she was pretty sure she would be the winner.

“You look just like your picture,” he told her. “That almost never happens. Lucky me.”

“Yes, lucky you,” she murmured.

They got a table on the patio. It was barely four in the afternoon, but an awning protected them from the sun. The server came around and they each ordered a glass of wine. Red for her, white for him. Art asked for a couple of cubes of ice in his. When the server flinched, Denise did her best not to cringe.

“So tell me about yourself,” Denise said, knowing she was stuck for at least half an hour. Then she told herself she shouldn’t be so quick to judge Art. He was probably a very nice man. If she gave him a chance, maybe they would hit it off.

“I’m retired,” he began. “I live east of Sacramento, in a nice little mobile-home park. Got me a double-wide. But I’m thinking of moving to Florida. Love Florida. There’s lots of fishing. You fish?”

“Not so much.”

“You should try it. It’s great fun. I’ve been looking at some real estate online. I can’t decide between a condo or a patio home. I don’t want to worry about a yard.” He grinned. “At my age, you always got to be concerned about a heart attack.”

The server returned with their wine and a mini quesadilla.

Art swirled his glass, clinking the ice cubes together, then took a sip. He smacked his lips together. “That’s a fine wine.” He looked over the quesadilla. “I’m really not supposed to have a lot of cheese,” he said, then grinned. “What the hey. You only live once, right?”

He picked up the whole quesadilla and swallowed it in two bites. Then he looked at Denise. “Did you want some of that?”

“I guess not.”

Art seemed unfazed by her response. “We can order another one.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”

They spent the next ten or fifteen minutes discussing the ins and outs of retirement financial planning. Art was very proud of his 401(k). He also told her in great detail what she should look for when she had to pick a Medicare supplement.

“I’m a few years from Medicare,” she said faintly.

“It’s never too early to start getting prepared.”

“I suppose.”

So far she hadn’t touched her wine. As a rule, she didn’t like to have a glass without having something to eat, but she wasn’t going to order more food. That would not only be awkward, it would mean she would have to stay longer.

She checked her watch. It had only been twenty minutes. Was there something wrong with the earth’s rotation? It felt like an hour had passed. She sighed.

“What else do you like to do?” she asked. So far they had only talked about Art, but she was okay with that. It wasn’t as if they were going to have a relationship.

He set down his glass and leaned toward her. If she didn’t know better, she would swear he was leering at her.

“I still enjoy those bedroom games,” he said with a wink. “I wouldn’t mind doing a round or two of the escaped prisoner and the warden’s wife, if you’re interested.”

Denise opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt herself blushing and hoped no one had heard him.

She stood. “I don’t think so. It was very nice to meet you, Art, but it’s time for me to go.”