“Promise?”
“No.”
He reached into the back seat for his crutches and got out of the car with a grunt.
It was a beautiful day, and Claire asked for a table on the patio. Only one other couple was seated outside, and it was nice and quiet. Once they were settled, had ordered drinks, and Graham had found something acceptable on the menu, they fell into relaxed conversation.
“Heard from Reagan?” Graham asked.
“Yeah, she made it down there okay. Bitch said she’s been on the beach every day.”
Graham chuckled, though it came out more like a rasp. “You’re more of a beach girl than a mountain girl, huh?”
Claire shrugged. “I love the beauty of the mountains. And I prefer cooler weather. But that summer I spent abroad in Barcelona hitting the beaches every weekend certainly wasn’t torture. Tan skin looks good on me.”
“I bet it does.”
She loved traveling, and would do it more if she didn’t require heavy doses of anxiety meds to get on a plane. “Did you travel much growing up?”
Graham shook his head just as a man burst onto the patio, gesturing violently with one hand while yelling into the phone held up to his ear with the other.
Graham leveled the guy with a look as he passed, but the man ignored him and paused at the railing just a few feet beside them.
“Even before my mom was diagnosed with MS we didn’t really travel long distances,” Graham said. Claire strained to hear his hoarse voice over the stranger’s loud conversation. Graham glared at the guy’s back, but kept going. “But my dad took me camping just outside town every chance he got.”
“That’s where it all started then, huh?” Claire asked with a smile. She’d never met anyone who loved being outside more than Graham. She could also count on one hand the number of times he’d mentioned anything about his life before she met him, and she wanted to hear more.
“Yeah. We—”
“What?” the guy yelled into his phone. “Come on!”
Claire held up a finger at Graham and stood, marching over to the asshole. She tapped him on the shoulder. He stopped midsentence and lifted his eyebrows.
“Yeah, hi. You seem pretty oblivious to anything beyond what you have going on there—” Claire motioned to his phone “—but there are people out here trying to have a conversation and all we can hear is you. Could you take it somewhere else or keep it down?”
The guy didn’t take his eyes off her. “Shawn, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He slid his phone into his pocket and grinned at her. “Sure, sweetheart. My apologies. But before I go, can I have your number?”
If his behavior thus far hadn’t already made her dislike the guy, the lustful sweep of his eyes down her body would have done it.
“Definitely not.” She turned on her heel and went back to the table. Taking a long sip of her water, she chanced a look at Graham, worried he might be embarrassed by her behavior. Why did she never consider that before she reacted?
But instead of a look of censure, she found that glorious, slightly crooked smile aimed in her direction. He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm as if studying a piece of artwork up close. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Suddenly self-conscious at his inspection and the warmth threading through her veins, she deflected. “Sorry. See? That’s the shit I do on dates that usually cancels out the chance of a second one.”
“I love watching you.” His eyes darkened but his quiet tone remained playful. “So did that guy, apparently. If you’re looking for someone who enjoys the mouth on you, you should go back and give him your number.”
“Hell no. I have to believe there’s someone out there who likes me for me, but also isn’t an asshole.”
“Once again, I’m out of the running.”
“I didn’t think you were ever in it?”
“I wasn’t. You can blame Angela DiMarco for that.”
Claire perked up. Now they were getting somewhere. “The girl who broke your heart is named Angela?”
He squinted. “You sound oddly disappointed.”
“It’s a little generic. I was imagining something with a little more flair. Porsche or Crystal or something. Angelas are shy girls, not the kind who go around breaking the hearts of big, brawny men like you.”
“Maybe I wasn’t so brawny back then.”
“How long ago was this alleged heart-breaking?” Claire had met him when she was twenty-two and he was twenty-seven during a night out with Mia and Noah, and had cared more about having fun with him than getting to know him.