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“I promise you won’t
get hurt. I’ll be careful with you.”
    She laughed, hoping to put his mind at ease. “That’s not at
all what I was thinking. You were very gentle with my arm.”
    Recalling how it’d felt to have his big hands on her body
sent a shot of exhilaration through her. He incited a riot of sensations she’d
given up on ever experiencing. Being so close to him ignited a searing,
throbbing feeling deep in her pussy. He made her feel safe, with his hunky body
and tender touch, but also sexy as he gazed down at her with an appreciative
look.
    When they reached Pietro’s, Ryan stopped short of the door
and propped his shoulder against the brick wall. Ginger reluctantly released
his arm.
    He continued to stare at her, a flicker of heat in his eyes.
He said, “I’d really like to see you again. If you’re not currently involved,
that is.”
    Warning signals went off in her head, but Ginger
conveniently ignored them. The excitement coursing through her was much too
pleasant and certainly too powerful to brush off.
    “What did you have in mind?” she asked in a breathy voice.
    “I’ve got some business to take care of this weekend, but
how about dinner on Sunday night?”
    She groaned. “The Holy Day? Not a chance in hell.”
    His jaw tightened briefly. “Stop thinking everyone will
disapprove.”
    “I don’t care about ‘everyone’. Your relatives are my
biggest concern.”
    “We’re adults, Ginger. And, quite frankly, I don’t give a
damn what anyone says if they see us together. I get to decide who I
date. So…just say yes.”
    Laughing softly, she said, “You’re very persuasive, Rhett
Butler.”
    “Six o’clock?”
    She nodded. “That’d be perfect.”
    “Where should I pick you up?”
    “The store. I’ll be working.”
    The corners of his tempting mouth turned downward. “You work
seven days a week?”
    “Yes. But I’m only open from ten to six, unless there’s
something going on downtown that might draw in customers.”
    Though her patronage had picked up, she still couldn’t
justify or afford part-time help. Not yet anyway. With her sales from her
website supplementing her income, she hoped to hire someone in a few months,
and then she’d open a bit earlier and hopefully find some way to draw in more
of a crowd.
    “All work and no play,” Ryan mused.
    “That’s the price of fulfilling a dream.”
    He nodded and said, “Gotcha.” His free hand grazed her arm
as he added, “At least your evenings are free.”
    Ginger’s stomach flipped. “Indeed they are.”
    “Then I’ll see you on Sunday.” He winked at her again before
sauntering off toward the sheriff’s office.
    She watched him go, admiring the view. Her buzzing cell
phone, however, reminded her she was late. It was likely Liza calling. Ginger
didn’t bother answering since she’d arrived at the restaurant.
    Despite the low points of the evening, there was a smile on
her face—thanks to Ryan—as she pulled open the door to Pietro’s. She strolled
over to the hostess stand manned by Ruby Jones, a vivacious, full-figured
redhead who owned the place with her husband, Mike. The town joke was that
there was no Italian chef named Pietro in Wilder. Regardless, the food was
astounding. As Ginger approached the podium, she inhaled the delicious scent of
spicy Italian sausage and peppers in a zesty sauce.
    “Pasta Bolognese?” she guessed as she mentally crossed her
fingers.
    Ruby’s head bobbed up and down. “Tonight’s special. You want
a menu?”
    “Nope. Already made up my mind.”
    The other woman lifted her arms in the air. “No one ever
wants a menu.” She wore one of her infamous aprons, this one simply saying
“Bombshell” across her ample chest.
    “You know you’re late,” Ruby told her. “Your party’s already
here. They were gettin’ worried about you.”
    Ginger didn’t want to think of the ordeal she’d experienced
this evening, which had made her tardy, though thoughts of Ryan