Dinner Date

Claire POV

“So? What do you think?” Don watched with boyish anticipation as I lifted a forkful of gnocchi to my mouth.

I pretended to mull it over before I proclaimed, “Best I’ve ever had.” His grin made the butterflies in my stomach reel.

“Told you,” he said, oozing playful self-satisfaction.

We were eating dinner at a tiny French restaurant tucked in the heart of Columbia Heights.

Instead of individual tables, one rustic wooden table stretched down the middle, just large enough to seat a dozen people.

A candlelit chandelier bathed the room in a flickering glow, and a display of copper pots and pans hung on the exposed brick wall.

It felt like we were eating in someone’s home, especially since there were few people in the restaurant.

“Don’t be too smug.” I pointed my fork at him. “The date is only half done. I’ve yet to grade you on your hand-holding, cuddling, and sweet little skills.”

“Of course. Apologies,” he drawled. “Didn’t mean to jump the gun.”

“Apology accepted.” I tuc