Free California Homecoming by Casey Dawes Page A

off the chef’s creations for the night. Her hands relaxed on the menu and her eyes became bright with attention and happiness.
    “Thank you,” he said when the waitress finished her perky recitation.
    “Would you like something special to drink?”
    “Sparkling water for me,” Sarah said immediately.
    “Nothing else?” he asked.
Didn’t women always want wine on a first date, especially if they were nervous?
    She shook her head.
    “I’ll have a Santa Cruz Mountain Pinot,” he told the waitress. He looked at Sarah. “Are you ready to order?”
    “I’ll have the pasta special.”
    The mushroom-laced nutty pasta had sounded good to him, too. “I’ll have that as well.”
    Hunter leaned back and studied Sarah, sure she was hiding something. “What made you decide to start an inn?” he asked.
    “It’s a long story.”
    He gestured around the room and smiled at her. “We have time.”
    “I was at Berkeley for environmental studies until last spring when I decided to switch to Davis to get a degree in hospitality management.”
    “Quite a change.”
    She smiled. “Like I told my mom, I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life in a field studying mouse droppings.”
    He laughed at the image. “But why hospitality?”
    “I liked the idea of creating destination inn. Rick — ” The blush was back. She shrugged. “He was my boyfriend at the time. Well, he and I were going to find a place, maybe in Sonoma or the foothills, where we could have a small inn, three or four rooms, and an exclusive restaurant like The French Laundry. I was going to develop a well-rated wine list.”
    “But you’re not having wine tonight.”
    “I’m … um … not in the mood.” She looked at the table.
    He contemplated her answer and knew it wasn’t true. But there was another question he needed answered. “How long has it been since you broke up with — what was his name? Rick?”
    Her startled eyes met his. “Why?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t really want to be a rebound guy.”
    “We’re just having dinner.”
    “It could turn into something else.”
    She shook her head.
    “Humor me,” he said. “When did you break up?”
    “December.”
    Definitely rebound territory.
    “How about you?” she asked. “Was there anyone special overseas? Or waiting for you back home?”
    That was the problem with asking probing questions of smart women. They retaliated.
    “Here you go!” The perky waitress was back with their drinks. As soon as she left, a black-clad busboy whizzed by to drop a basket of rolls and butter on the table.
    Hunter took a sip of his wine, racking his brain to figure out how to derail her train of thought.
    “Well?” she asked. “Was there someone?”
    No way around it.
“Yes. She was killed when I lost my leg. It was over a year ago. Rehab takes a while.” He took a deep breath. “If you don’t mind, I don’t like to talk about it.”
    She studied him. “Okay.”
    “Your plan for the inn sounds ambitious.”
    “Yeah, I guess it does. Maybe too ambitious,” she said.
    “But if you don’t dream big, how do you know what you’re capable of achieving?” His words echoed in his mind. He was going to need to ask himself the same question sometime soon.
    She smiled. “I guess you’re right. That’s what my mom and Marcos are always saying. ‘Dream big! Go for what you want!’” She enclosed the expressions in air quotation marks.
    “Who’s Marcos?”
    Sarah grinned. “My mom’s boyfriend. It feels so weird to say that. She met him in Italy. He’s a winemaker and he bought some land here and — ” she shrugged.
    “So he moved here?”
    “Not really. They go back and forth. I think they’re still trying to figure out how to make it all work. My mom has a day spa in Costanoa she started when my dad died. What about your family?”
    He lingered on the last sip of his wine. “I’m an only child. My dad and mom live in Sausalito.” He bit a piece of bread, chewed, and