“Kate, please. Yes, everything at the practice is going well. I thought I’d come by and see this bar of yours and get dinner and wine, if that is OK?”
“Absolutely, Kate.” Grabbing my hand, he pulls me over to a barstool at the corner of the bar. “Sit here, and I’ll grab you a menu. Do you want red or white wine?”
“Red,” I answer as I sit down and put my tingling hand in my lap. Yep, tingles. Just looking at this man makes me feel all tingly.
He pours a glass of wine and brings it to me. “Here, try this red blend. It’s from a new winery down the road. Very smooth, a bit dry, but fruit forward, not smoky. It’s my new favorite.”
Taking a sip, I am surprised this wine came out of Montana. It’s so good. “Delicious. I usually like a good Malbec, and this blend is like a close sister. Did you say this came out of a winery near here? Can you text me the address? I’d like to go and pick up some. We could even do a tasting.”
“Sure. Actually, why don’t we go together sometime? I received that bottle from my supplier, but I’d love to visit and taste their other wines to see if they have anything else,” he suggests.
Go together...did he just ask me out on a date, or a friendship-only road trip? Sigh, I can’t tell. “Going together” could be anything.
“Sure, that sounds like fun,” I tell him. I mean it, because I know he will be fun to go with, even if it’s not a date.
Cocking his head to the side, he studies me for a second, then winks. “Great, it’s a date. Look at the menu, and I’ll be right back. Specials are on the back.”
I sit there, stunned.Could it be that easy? A date. I have a date.
Smiling, I look down at the menu.
The old man next to me leans over, chuckling. “Damn, that boy is smooth. Reminds me of myself in my younger days.”
I turn to look at the old man. He’s exactly what I pictured a cowboy from Montana should look like. Lean frame, tanned and weathered face, dark hair, and brown eyes. With the well-worn prerequisite boots and cowboy hat.
Smiling, I hold out my hand. “I’m Dr. Kate Michaels. It’s nice to meet you. He was a bit smooth, wasn’t he? How about I flirt with a genuine cowboy, so he can see he’s got competition?”
His eyebrows raise, and he lets out a loud laugh. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Michaels. I’m Hank Guthrie,” he says, gently shaking my hand.
“Hank, it’s nice to meet you, too. Please call me Kate. What’s good to eat here?”
“Well, now, seeing as how I own a cattle ranch and Lev gets his beef from me, I’d be a fool if I didn’t recommend the steak. Although, the spaghetti and meatballs are really my favorite,” he whispers, winking at me.
I laugh. As I go to reply, Lev comes back and eyes the two of us laughing. “Are you flirting with my girl?” he growls at Hank.
“If I was younger, I’d give you a run for your money,” Hank tells him. “Beautiful woman like her, and smart, too? She’d never settle for your playboy ways when she could have a hard-working man like me treating her like a queen.”
Lev laughs. “Hell, I guess I’m lucky you’re just an old fart now, huh?”
“’Old fart!?’ See if I give you the good beef in the next shipment,” he rasps, scowling at Lev. He turns to me. “See how he treats his elders? You may want to rethink that date. Maybe you should pick Lowell or Shaw to go on a date with instead of Lev. They know how to treat their elders.”
I shake my head in mock agreement. “I will think about it. I like a man who treats his elders with respect, and if that’s not Lev...” Trailing off in disappointment, I shake my head.
Laughing, Hank eases off the stool. “It was good to meet you, Dr. Michaels.”
“Call me Kate,” I remind him.
“Kate, I’ll see you around. Lev, you treat this girl right on your date.” Hank shakes Lev’s hand and strolls out of the bar.
Lev crosses his arms. “Already flirting with someone else? I’m gone for five brief minutes.”
Crossing my arms, I lean back and stare at him. “Your girl?”
His eyes twinkle as he leans over the bar. “I would love to claim you right now, but I’ll settle for a date or two before we get to that stage. No need to rush into things.” He laughs. “So, what can I get you for dinner?”
Blushing, I stare at him. I cannot tell when this man is serious and when he is joking. I could swear he is serious. But that’s ridiculous, right?
“I have it on good authority the spaghetti and meatballs are the best. Is that correct?”
