Free Wilde One by Jannine Gallant Page B

horizons and showing me a slice of the past I wouldn’t have known existed. I bet you’re an excellent teacher.”
    “I try to make learning fun.”
    “Well, you did for me.” He squeezed her hand. “Now what? Dinner then bed?” He grimaced. “Sorry, that sounded…I didn’t mean…”
    “I know what you meant.” Her eyes held a hint of sparkle mixed with confusion. “Despite the fact we grabbed sandwiches a few hours ago, I could eat.”
    He was so busy trying to figure out what she was thinking, he almost missed her reply. “Wait? What? You actually want food?”
    The shadows in her eyes morphed into a smile. “I do like to eat on occasion. What sounds good to you?”
    You. Sound good. Look good. He shifted uncomfortably as his shorts tightened and was grateful for the encroaching darkness as they left the field to approach the SUV. “How about pasta?”
    “Perfect. I could definitely go for Italian.”
    An image of Ainslee wrapped in a few strategically placed spaghetti noodles and nothing else flashed through his mind. He grabbed the door handle as his knees threatened to buckle then took a long breath. Down, boy. “I saw an Italian restaurant when we drove through town earlier. Let’s hope the food’s good.”
    Keeping his relationship with this woman strictly platonic was getting harder by the hour. The more time he spent with her, the greater his need to take things to the next level physically. He was nearly positive she felt the attraction between them but had no idea if she wanted to do anything about it. Since he didn’t want to make her nervous in any way, until she gave him a clear sign she was interested, he’d simply grit his teeth and keep his hands to himself. Even if it killed him.
    The drive from the battlefield into town wasn’t a long one, and they were soon seated at a table for two in the corner of the restaurant. A red-checked tablecloth along with a candle stuck in a wine bottle set at its center added a touch of rustic charm.
    “Comfortable rather than fancy. I like this place.” Ainslee opened the menu. “Ooh, pesto. I’m going to have pesto bowtie pasta with chicken.”
    “I’m old school when it comes to my stomach. Spaghetti with meatballs.” He shut the menu, and when the waitress stopped beside their table, ordered two glasses of Chianti to go with their meal. He glanced across the table. “Is that okay with you?”
    Ainslee nodded. “Sounds lovely. Maybe it’ll help me sleep on the hard ground.”
    “That reminds me…I should pick up some gear. Sleeping bag, pad, tent, maybe a stove so we can cook breakfast.”
    “We can stop at the sporting goods store we passed, then go get a few groceries and some ice. I have a cooler in the car.”
    He leaned back in his chair. “Aren’t we organized? Speaking of which, I checked the map while you were chatting up the park ranger at the visitor’s center. Should take us two days to reach New Orleans if we don’t want to spend more than eight to ten hours in the car each day.”
    “Perfect.” She planted her elbows on the table. “You know what I’d like to do?”
    Griff could think of a couple of possibilities but doubted they were what Ainslee had in mind. “What?”
    “Figure out who our competition is. We’re assuming Parnell Jones is the descendent of one of Victor’s buddies. Then there’s the blond man the bartender mentioned. Using the names from your grandpa’s letters and a little—okay, maybe a lot—of online research, we should be able to come up with some viable options.”
    “What about the fifth contestant? No sign of him—or her—yet.”
    Ainslee frowned then moved her elbows off the table when the waitress delivered their wine along with a basket of bread. “Thanks.” She sipped the Chianti as the woman retreated. “Either the fifth person is completely clueless and way behind in the hunt, or he or she is brilliant and running in the lead.”
    “Or the guy is around somewhere, but we