"I see I misjudged dinner attire." Her gaze raked down his body, taking in his black button-down shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. "Give me a few minutes and I'll put on something more appropriate."

"Don't you dare." He made to snatch her wrist to prevent her from disappearing inside, then pulled back at the last minute, remembering the load he'd picked up. "I'll be the envy of every man in Chick-fil-A."

"You're going to make this painful for me, aren't you?"

He could think of many more ways to describe tonight, but painful wasn't one of them. Unless he counted the ache building in his pants. Having Randi, in that dress, within reach all night could be debilitating.

"I have the perfect place for us."

"Would you like to wash your hands while I get my things?"

"Saw my poop-scoopin' abilities, did you?"

"Indeed I did." Her teasing smile softened. "Very gallant of you, Britt Steele."

"Mom would've tanned my hide had I stood there and watched."

"Big guy like you afraid of his mama?"

"Every Southern boy is afraid of his mama."

Laughing, she retrieved a small black purse while he made use of her powder room. When they left her house, she slid her hand into his. The act was so natural, as if they'd done this same thing a thousand times, that Britt didn't think twice about leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. In those dream-worthy heels, she almost stood nose-to-nose with him.

Perfect.

When he opened Old Blue's door, she hesitated a moment, no doubt assessing the most ladylike way of climbing into his pickup.

"Would you care for a suggestion?"

"Would you care for a stiletto to the forehead?"

He laughed, lifting her into his arms and setting her inside. "You can work out the logistics next time-when I'm not starving." He shut the door on her curses.

Thirty minutes later, they arrived at Urban Grille, a contemporary restaurant decorated in grays and black and lots of natural stonework. The place had an upscale vibe with a down-to-earth feel. A perfect place for worn jeans and boots or cocktail dresses and heels.

"This is amazing," Randi said as they waited to be seated. "How'd you find this place?"

"Grif." His brother had a knack for finding all the unique, worth-your-money shops and restaurants in any area he visited.

The hostess showed them to an intimate table for two adjacent to a low-burning fireplace that was more for ambiance than warmth. A tea light candle flickered on their tabletop.

Britt pulled out Randi's chair for her before taking the seat next to her.

The hostess handed them their menus. "Enjoy your dinner."

Randi opened her menu. "Any suggestions?"

"I'm a steak kind of guy. Big, juicy, bloody."

She made a face. "Not helpful."

Britt kept his attention on his menu, even though he knew before they'd arrived what he would order. The next hour would be agony. He would rather have taken her on a hike or a drive along the Parkway. With those two options, he could have discussed various points of interest.

Everything they might talk about over a meal-the wolves, her bar, her mom-would be a forbidden, open wound. Did she have hobbies? Favorite places to visit?

Chancing a peek over his menu, he studied her. What did she do with her precious few hours of freedom? TV? Movies? Books? Music? Or maybe she preferred to sit on her porch with an iced tea while watching the sunset. Or tracking her nosy neighbor up and down the street.

She wore her hair down. He couldn't recall ever having seen her wear it that way before. She seemed to prefer taming it into a ponytail or a sloppy ponybun. Tonight, her blond strands appeared animated in the firelight. Like silken flames dancing on a woodland breeze.

Woodland breeze? What the hell?

Britt slapped the menu onto the table. He couldn't even blame his brothers for putting such poetic nonsense in his head. Phrases like silken flames and woodland breeze didn't show up in Jonah's graphic novels or Grif's financial e-zines. And who knew what Reid read for enjoyment. Probably survival guides or how-to-take-your-badass-gun-apart-in-ten-seconds-or-less mags.

"Everything all right?" Randi asked.

"Of course." He nodded toward her menu. "Did you find something?"

"I found a lot of somethings. Deciding on one is the hard part."

"Hey, there," a masculine voice said over Britt's shoulder. A young man with icy-blue eyes parked his well-honed body at the end of their table. "Welcome to Urban Grille. I'm Blake and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get y'all to drink?"

Randi closed her menu and smiled up at the guy. "A sangria, please."

Blake moved closer to Randi. "Red or white?"

"What do you suggest?"

"Red. Definitely red."

It was hard for Britt to tell at this angle, but he was almost certain the waiter's gaze lingered on Randi's mouth.

"Bud Light for me," Britt cut in. He glanced at Randi. "Ready to order?" Anything to keep this guy from ogling his date one more minute.

Randi nodded. "I'm torn between the cedar-planked tilapia and chicken marsala. Any recommendations?"

Britt clamped his mouth shut as he listened to the two go back and forth. When Blake finally turned to him, he gave the twenty-something kid a hard look. "Prime rib. I want it hopping on the plate."

"Got it," Blake said, unaffected. "I'll be back with y'all's drinks in a sec."

Randi crossed her legs and sat back. "Do you know our server?"

"No."

"Would you prefer he'd been a she with her breasts bursting out of the top of her too-tight T-shirt?"

Her words slapped away his bad humor. "It would have been more pleasurable on my part."

"And less on mine."

"Have I mentioned I'm territorial?"

"Territorial? A trait you picked up from the wolves?"

"A trait I picked up around you."

"For a woman you barely know?"

His voice lost its teasing tone. "I know you, Miranda Shepherd."

"How is that possible? We'd barely spoke to each other until a week ago."

Britt couldn't tell her the truth about his Friday night visits to her bar. Lord only knew what she'd think of a thirty-something guy who hadn't dropped a large enough set of balls to ask her out. And he certainly wasn't ready to admit he'd never been territorial with any other woman.

"Your mother spoke of you often."

"My mother knew less than nothing about me. All of her attention was focused on her work, her causes." She let her gaze roam over the other guests, visibly collecting herself. She attempted a smile, no doubt trying to direct him away from her too-revealing words.

She'd made other vague references to her relationship with Barbara. She was dealing with abandonment issues, whether perceived or real, he didn't know. In the time he'd spent with Barbara, she'd never let on about the state of her relationship with her daughter.

In fact, she seemed to know a great deal about Randi's personal and professional accomplishments. She was never shy about praising her daughter. He'd been intrigued well before their chance meeting at his mom's sixtieth birthday party six months ago.

Their brief conversation had him entering her bar the very next Friday. Though he'd seen her only a few days before, he hadn't been prepared for his first glimpse of Randi in her element. Outfitted in a powder-blue V-neck top with bootcut jeans and cowgirl boots, she'd fit the mold for most small-town working-class girls in North Carolina. But her sloppy ponybun and fresh-faced appearance had tantalized him all night. She'd zipped around the bar for hours, always sparing a comment or smile for her customers. Never tiring, never disappearing, never looking his way.

Triple B was Randi and vice versa. Her stamina and focus put him-and everyone around her-to shame. No one on her staff could keep up with her. No one commanded the same attention.

The more he'd visited her bar, the more he'd wanted to get to know her. Not her public persona. The real Randi. The Randi who broke open a bottle of wine behind closed doors. The Randi who wore sweats and read books in her living room. The Randi who smiled a genuine smile at her friends.

His life wasn't exactly complicated, but it was full. He had no idea how to work a romantic relationship into his schedule. Still didn't, especially with this new project Jonah had laid at his feet.

Women liked attention-a lot of it, and it had to be delivered in various unfathomable forms like flowers, phone calls, movies, meals, kissing but no sex, touching but no sex, and then sex, sex, I love you. The sheer volume of need blew his mind. And if he didn't deliver...silent treatment.

Love. He'd never experienced an inkling of the emotion. Maybe because most of his relationships had only lasted a few months before either they or he got bored and wanted to move on.

What a mess. Here he was, pushing for the next step, yet he had no idea if he was even prepared for it. Maybe his next step didn't match hers. Maybe they had nothing in common. Maybe her interest in him stopped at physical companionship. Having a boyfriend might be the furthest thing from her mind. Could he settle for a sex-only arrangement? He'd done so in the past, but every time he considered that kind of relationship with Randi, his mind shied away from the idea. Something vital would be missing. Off. Way off. Lost for hours kind of off.

"Here we go." Blake set down their drinks. "Your meals will be out in a few minutes." He trotted off, leaving silence in his wake.

"Should we discuss the details of my agreement with Jonah?" she asked.

The first stirrings of failure formed low in his gut. He'd hoped this evening would end in her agreement to see him again. But that plan had just taken a right turn toward the big R.

"There's really not much to discuss. He's purchasing Sagebrook for a price agreeable to you both."

"No caveat? No exceptions? No contingent-upon clauses?"

He shrugged. "Jonah likes to keep things simple."

"What is he getting out of this besides additional land? Does he know about the wolves?"

"He does now."

She shook her head as if the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place. "Your brother is that wealthy? That he could purchase a thousand acres just to save a pack of wolves?"

"And he won't even feel a dent in his wallet."

"He must love you very much."

It took several seconds for Britt to force the words through his tight throat. "He's a good kid-when he's not a pain in the ass."

She smiled. "I always wondered what it would be like to have a brother or sister."

"I have a few you could borrow. Free for a decade."

"You'd miss them too much."

"I have an amazing ability to ignore my own needs. I'll survive."

"Wait until I see Grif. I'm sure he'll be interested to know that his older brother was trying to barter him off."

"You're right. Grif would never let me execute the deal for free. He'd make sure I got a fair-more than fair-price for him."

Her laugh echoed across the room. A pure, contagious note that made his mouth cock into an answering grin.

"You are all sorts of wrong. I wouldn't have taken you for a wicked card-carrying member."

Leaning back, he toyed with his fork. "What membership did you think I held?"

"Staid. Brooding. Controlled."

Britt raised a brow. "By all means, take your time and think about it awhile."

"What? You don't like my assessment?"

"I'm not sure. Sounds like you're calling me boring."

"When you come into my bar, you and your brothers always have people around you. Yet most of the time, you appear to be observing, not participating."

Interesting. She'd watched him as much as he'd watched her. Maybe the Big R of rejection had ducked behind the bend.

"I'm not much of a conversationalist." Britt cringed. Way to sell himself to the hot chick.

"Really? I don't recall there being any awkward moments between us."

Britt reviewed their previous conversations and discovered she was right. Even during some of their more difficult discussions he hadn't been at a loss for words. Tonight was no exception. He'd sat down dreading how he would make it through the meal. How he would keep things interesting when so much of what they had in common would be off-limits. But they'd been here a good fifteen minutes, and he was enjoying himself.

"Must be you."

"I doubt it. You might be one of those people who express themselves better one-on-one, rather than with a group of folks."