Free California Homecoming by Casey Dawes Page B

swallowed. “How did your dad die?”
    Sarah groaned. “Is every answer going to be like this? You’re giving me as little information as you can and then you ask me another question. Why did you want to go out to dinner? Are you in the CIA or something? Need to know only?”
    He had to laugh. “No. Sorry. I don’t like to talk about my parents much. My dad and I don’t really get along.”
    “Why not?”
    Shit.
How was he going to answer that?
    He carefully buttered another piece of bread, but before he could answer, the waitress arrived with their meals and clunked them on the table. “Bon appetite!” she said and scurried off.
    He raised his glass to Sarah. As they clinked, he looked into her eyes. He could tell she wasn’t going to let up until she got the answers she wanted.
    The breakup must have been bad.
    “So why don’t you get along?” she asked again, watching the pasta she twirled it. She put the forkful of linguini in her mouth, delicately catching the strands with her tongue. He felt his long-dormant libido stir again.
    He twirled his own pasta and ate it before answering.
Succulent, like the woman in front of him.
“My dad.” He shrugged. There was no good way to put it. “He cheats on my mom constantly and rubs it in her face.”
    “How horrible! Why does she stay?”
    He took another sip of wine and considered how to answer the question. They were getting deep for a first date.
    “Sorry,” she said. “Probably none of my business.”
    “No.”
    “The reason I asked — I mean why I care — is my mom recently found out my dad had a whole other family in Los Baños. His mistress was pregnant with my half-sister when my dad died.”
    “Oh.” That explained a lot. He fished for words and settled on the truth. “I really don’t know why my mother never left. We never talked about it.”
Not entirely true, but close enough.
“Then she got cancer and there didn’t seem to be any point. Now she’s supposed to be in remission, but she still seems tired all the time. Doesn’t do much. Sits in the living room watching the bay, reading romances, and drinking her tea.”
    “Sounds sad.”
    “Yes.”
    They ate in silence for a few minutes. For a dinner that was supposed to be a joyful new beginning, it was turning into a real downer.
    “How did they feel about you going in the service?”
    He put his fork down. “You don’t give up, do you?” He grinned at her to take the sting from the words.
    She smiled. “Sorry. I really like to know people, discover what makes them tick. That’s why an inn is so exciting to me. Think of all the people I’ll meet, the stories they’ll be able to tell me. People from all over the world come to this area.”
    Her face radiated joy and he had to chuckle. “Okay, Miss Nosey, they hated the idea. My father thought it was a waste of my time and talent and my mother was afraid I’d be killed.”
    “She must have freaked when you were hurt.”
    “Something like that.” He sipped his wine. Two could play this game. “So how come you aren’t in school?”
    “Things happen.”
    He put his glass back on the table. “That’s it? You quiz me about my life and I get ‘Things happen’? Not fair, Miss Sarah. Not fair at all.”
    She flashed him a smile. “But that’s all you’re going to get.”
    “Secrets aren’t good between couples.”
    “Oh, are we a couple?”
    He touched her hand. “Could be.”
    She pulled her hand back. “I’ve got an inn to open, an inn you’re very anxious to move into, I might add. I don’t have time to be in a relationship.”
    The brightness had left her voice. She wasn’t telling him everything, but he’d let it go. For now.
    “What’s the last movie you saw?” He picked up his fork again.
    She smiled and launched into a litany of her favorite movies, most of which he’d seen and enjoyed.
    An hour later, they left the restaurant, now arguing about the dismal state of affairs in Washington and how to fix