“Well.” She scooped some cake up onto her fork. “Betty is the mama coon and she just had two babies. Boris—he’s her husband—is a horny little bastard, and their other kids come and go. And when I say Betty just had babies, I mean she just had them. They’re days old, and I want pictures.”

“And she feeds them?”

“She’s not raising them for slaughter.”

“I don’t think people eat raccoon.”

“People will eat anything if they’re hungry. That’s why cannibalism exists.”

I put my fork down. Now that was the thing that would put a guy off hot, chocolatey cake.

Reagan paused with a forkful of cake near her mouth. “Cannibalism probably isn’t a great thing to mention on a first date, huh?”

“Or any date. Ever.” My lips twitched.

She looked down at the cake with a forlorn expression before setting down her own fork. “Yep. I ruined my own dessert.”

I scratched my jaw, fighting a wider smile. “Shall I get the check and you can show me the beach? As long as you promise not to eat me and kill me.”

She stared flatly at me. “Oh, look, that was so funny I can’t stop laughing.”

“That’s what that sound is. Pure amusement.”

She sighed. Heavily. Then reached for her wine without another word.

If I was exasperating her, that was a good thing. She was pretty exasperating herself.

I motioned for the check and put down cash as soon as the little leather wallet was laid down. Reagan nodded that she was ready to go when I shot her a questioning look, and I got up to get her chair for her.

She took the hand I offered her after making sure she had everything. Her soft fingers wrapped around mine as I guided her out of the restaurant, and a startling thought flashed through my mind.

I would be happy to never let go of her hand.

I squeezed it lightly as I held the door for her and let her step outside before me. I expected her to drop my hand, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed close enough that her grip barely loosened.

Her entire body shuddered as a cool evening breeze whipped past us. It would only get colder on the beach since the sun was all but fully set, so I leaned in.

“There’s a sweater in my truck. You want it?” I asked her quietly.

“I’m fine.” She wiggled her shoulders like she was fighting a shiver.

“Wait here.” I released her hand and walked to my truck, retrieving the sweater from the back seat. “Here,” I said, holding it out for her to slip her arms into. “I keep it there for when I finish late and it’s pretty cold.”

“Thank you.” She put her arms in and freed her hair. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.” I took her hand again, this time sliding my fingers between hers. Silence stretched between us, but it was a comfortable one.

Reagan stepped in closer to me, wrapping her free hand around my wrist as we walked. I did my best to keep us on the flat path since she was wearing heels, but it wasn’t too long before the sidewalk disappeared and we were on what was, essentially, a dirt road.