The waitress came to our table with a large bucket of beers, and Rebecca said to her, “Hey, Jules, keep those coming, and please grab some seats for the guys.”

“You got it,” Jules replied.

I felt Caleb’s eyes on me and shifted in his direction just as he said, “I’ve given you my bio; now, it’s your turn.”

“My turn?” My brows rose as I hid the shyness I was suddenly feeling. “I’m not nearly as interesting as you.”

“Let me decide that. Give me three things I would never guess about you.”

“Hmm.” He was putting me on the spot, his attention causing my brain to stop working, not knowing which angle in which to answer. “I’m a foodie, except I despise chicken.”

He smiled.

“Traveling is something I want to do more than anything in this world, but I’ve been nowhere. And I’m positively terrified of cats.”

“Cats?”

I shoved a hand into the pocket of my jeans, feeling how sweaty it was becoming. “They’re far too sneaky and sly for my liking. I prefer the honesty of dogs—you know where you stand with them at all times.”

“And you have a sense of humor.”

“I really don’t; that would be Emily. She constantly makes me laugh out loud and somehow negotiates her way into free beer and tacos.”

As his gaze narrowed, I was instantly reminded of how delicious it was. “She might have just earned herself a job offer.”

“She’s a teacher, and she loves her kids more than life. It would take an awful lot to pull her away from that.”

“What would it take to pull you away?”

“Me?” I chuckled. “I’m not a negotiator or good at finances. I’m an RN; you wouldn’t want me.”

“I’m not talking about a job, Whitney.”

I knew my face was turning multiple shades of red, and I just couldn’t hide it.

“How about this?” he started. “I have about an hour before you leave the bar. In that time, let’s see if I can earn a date with you.”

I squeezed the bottle with my other hand, feeling the condensation drip to the bottom, my back now just as sweaty. “I’ll drink to that.”

His stare moved right through me as he clinked his beer against mine. “Cheers, Whitney.”

Eighteen

“Whitney,” Emily sang as she washed her hands at the sink next to mine. “Caleb is Ben Affleck delicious. Seriously, girl. Wow.”

As a Boston native herself, Emily compared all men to Boston-raised celebrities; in her eyes, they were the most attractive.

“I don’t disagree.” I checked the little makeup I’d put on in the mirror, tucking the stray hairs back into my hat. “And somehow, his number is now in my phone and mine is in his.”

She pulled a towel out of the dispenser. “Somehow, huh?”