“My goodness!” Erin exclaimed. “You and Sissy must already be the busiest couple in town with two little ones, a restaurant, and a ranch to run. I can’t believe you’re thinking about another child.”

Ben’s burnished face creased in a broad grin. “Oh, yeah, we’re pretty busy, all right. But we wouldn’t have it any other way. I grew up in a large family, so I always wanted at least three kids. Sissy has no siblings, and she resented that growing up, so she wants a large family, too.” He shrugged and cupped a protective hand over the back of his son’s head. “And honestly, it’s not so bad when we bring the kids with us to the café. All our customers know them, so somebody’s always ready to lend us a hand.” He inclined his head at Erin’s menu and then made eye contact with Wyatt. “When you’re ready to order, just wave me down. I’ll be back in a second to take your drink orders.”

As Ben walked away, leading his daughter along beside him, Wyatt wished the guy would have stayed. Erin seemed nervous now that it was just the two of them, and he shared the feeling. Two people didn’t instantly feel comfortable with each other merely because they had agreed to be friends.

Wyatt read all the menu choices. He was a huge fan of Sissy’s beef bourguignon, but he’d had that the last time he was in, so he decided on the spaghetti and meatballs. Sissy simmered the sauce for twenty-four hours, and her meatballs were homemade delicacies. A person couldn’t go wrong.

Ben returned for their drink orders. Erin asked Ben to select a nice red wine for her. Wyatt thought maybe a goblet or two of vino would take the edge off his nerves, so he asked Ben to make it a full bottle with two glasses. Then he said, “And I’m ready to order my meal.” He directed a glance at Erin. “Have you decided, or am I rushing you?”

She shook her head. “No, no, I’ve decided on the spaghetti.”

Wyatt smiled. “Great minds think alike.” To Ben, he said, “Make that two spaghetti dinners.”

As he settled his gaze on Erin again, he immediately regretted his choice of entrée. Eating spaghetti was almost always messy. He didn’t want to end up with spaghetti sauce on his chin.

“Spaghetti is messy,” he said. “Maybe I should have gotten the beef bourguignon so I won’t embarrass you.”

Erin’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, dear. You’re right. It probably will be messy.”

Wyatt winked at her. “Which must mean you don’t possess talent for rolling noodles around a fork with a spoon.”

“No. I shouldn’t have ordered spaghetti. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s fabulous spaghetti. Let’s just both agree not to watch each other eat.”

She nodded. “Agreed!”

Ben returned with their wine. Wyatt tasted a small sample, approved the selection, and the restauranteur poured a measure of the merlot into each of their goblets. Erin took a sip of hers, swallowed, and waited for Ben to leave before saying, “I’m so glad you got a whole bottle. When I suggested that we try to be friends, I didn’t think I’d feel this nervous.”