Robyn Carr - The Chance

“Yes,” he said instantly. “But only the kind I like. And that wasn’t any brilliance on my part. I chose this—I like the kind of pressure I have. I serve some pretty high-dollar masters and their half-million-dollar classics. I can’t make too many mistakes. But then, I don’t make too many mistakes. Not at that, anyway.”

I don’t make many mistakes, either, Laine thought. I’m the best at what I do. Yet I can’t keep doing it.

Four

Eric had been optimistic regarding his date with Laine, but he had not really expected it to go as well as it did. First off, she asked a million questions about the restoration of the El Camino, right down to the vinyl truck-bed cover and dash instruments, where he found parts and how he pulled it all together. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew she was appealing directly to his male pride. But he could also tell she was genuinely interested, not just trying to pump him up. By the time they got to the restaurant in Bandon, he had already passed the point of no return. He was no longer just attracted to her, he really liked her.

“I hope this is okay,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of a small restaurant. “It’s not fancy but Cooper says the food is great and it’s not loud.”

“Perfect,” she said, unfastening her seat belt and reaching for the door handle.

He grabbed her wrist. “Wait,” he said. “Let me be a gentleman. At least for tonight. I’m trying to make a good impression.”

“Well, knock yourself out,” she said, waiting as he came around and opened her door.

When they were inside, he rejected the first table the waitress showed them. “How about that one?” he asked, pointing to a table in the corner rather than in the middle of the room. Then he leaned close and said to the waitress, “First date.”

“Gotcha,” she replied, smiling approvingly.

When they were seated, Laine said, “Either you’re very experienced with first dates or you’re actually suave.”

“How old are you?” he asked. “You look young, very young, but when you open your mouth there’s a whole lot of experience there.”

“Thirty-three,” she said. “Looking young was a problem when I was fifteen. When I was twenty-one, too. But at thirty-three I don’t mind that much and I think when I’m fifty I’ll be grateful. And you are...?”

“Thirty-six. For one more month.”

She ordered a glass of Cabernet, he ordered a beer and they looked at menus. Once they had decided and ordered, he said, “Now it’s your turn, Laine. I want to hear about being a researcher.”

“Aw, no you don’t. But let’s get this out of the way. I work for a government agency on a task force that involves a lot of different government agencies. Like I told you before, I do a lot of background checks, all over the place, none of which I’m allowed to talk about. I have a security clearance. Ninety percent of the time it’s not interesting and when it is interesting I really can’t talk about it. I don’t mean to be dismissive and I’m certainly not being coy, but that’s not what I’d like to talk about, if you can live with that....”

“Secret clearance, huh?” he said. “I bet you’re connected to spooky stuff.”

She shrugged. “I used to think so. But seriously, since that’s not what I’m doing right now...”

“All right, tell me what you’re interested in besides cooking.”

It was unmistakable, how her eyes lit up. “Lots of things. I love horses, though I haven’t had one since college. I rode as a kid—English saddle and dressage competition. I also took karate and competed. First my mom had me in gymnastics, which I remember as great fun, but then I grew into karate, which I still love. I love parasailing and rock climbing—all things I can’t do right now because of a weak arm, but my shoulder is healed and getting stronger all the time, so one of these days... The family had a sailboat, so I know how to sail. By the time the weather warms up, I’ll be ready to strengthen the shoulder with a kayak paddle on a bay that’s usually still and calm. I really love being outdoors.”

“You did all those things as a kid?”

She gave a nod. “What did you do?”

He laughed. “Laine, I think we had very different childhoods. My dad was a postal carrier and my mom was a housewife. I played Little League and sandlot soccer—teams and uniforms were pretty expensive. I suspect you had lots of advantages.”

“My parents were both surgeons. My mother passed away a few years ago and my dad is approaching seventy but he has an active practice and still operates. Not the way he used to—just sometimes. He’s winding down, his partners doing the bulk of the cases, but he’s still involved. Orthopedics.”

“You were a lucky kid,” he said, smiling at her.

Their salads arrived and they talked while they dug in. She told him she had no idea she was a lucky kid and spent far too much time focusing on things that didn’t satisfy her and he admitted that in his neighborhood, he’d had no idea he was poor, until much later, when he could see the difference between the haves and the have-nots.

“And you come from Thunder Point?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We moved there when I was in high school. My folks only lived there a few years, then moved closer to my older sister and her family.”

“And you’re definitely not poor now,” she said.

“I get by. I have some money saved. Not a fortune. I’m pretty tight, when you get down to it.”

“A by-product of growing up not having enough?”

He chewed a mouthful of salad. “More likely a by-product of worrying that I don’t deserve what I have. I didn’t even graduate from high school. I got my GED later.”

“At least you got it!”

By the time their entrées came, they were talking about the differences in their lives to this point in time—she admitted to a successful college experience, while he claimed a few college courses. He told her it was his brother-in-law who helped him buy the first auto body shop in Eugene, but he managed to pay him back and buy him out. Eric was enjoying the conversation, even though he was the poor cousin to her privileged little girl. That didn’t bother him—his parents were good people, just not rich people. He was well aware that their differences ran far deeper, but he wasn’t going to get into that tonight. He wanted to get to know her first; wanted her to get to know him for the person he was now, not the person he had been in years past. Besides, she was playing some cards very close to her own chest—like the top secret jazz she couldn’t talk about. Surely her good friend Devon had been privy to what Laine actually did for a living. And he was willing to bet it wasn’t “research.”

But no matter what was missing, what was there for Eric was plenty. He was further across the line—he really liked her. She was fun and smart and sexy. It sounded like she had a complicated life that she took in stride, which spelled maturity—he appreciated that. There was a certain young wisdom about her when she said things like, “I think it’s too bad when our parents don’t live up to our expectations when it’s even more likely we didn’t live up to theirs.”

Plus...he liked the way she lifted the fork, licked her lips, brushed back her hair. She had a small dimple on the right side of her mouth, very deep blue eyes, one slightly crooked front tooth that gave her smile an impish quality. She was so articulate; he had had to work hard to become articulate when he began to draw a sophisticated clientele. He hadn’t come from a well-educated background and as a kid he hung with lowlifes. She said she didn’t have a million friends, just a few good ones. “I can relate to that,” he said. “Me, too.”