Chapter 11
"You think you can win? Do you even realize the top spot is held by someone who used to play for the state team?" Damon said.
"Then you're the champion of the amateur group," Maeve replied.
Damon took the water, twisted off the cap, and took a few gulps. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
"We agreed, if I win, I'll treat you to dinner," he said.
"You didn't win. You got second place," Maeve replied.
"Second place still counts as a win," Damon insisted.
Maeve glanced up at him. Sunlight spilled across his face, sweat sliding down his temples. He stood there in the glow, watching her.
"Okay," Maeve said, shifting her gaze. "What do you want to eat?"
"Up to you," Damon replied.
Maeve thought for a second. "How about steak?"
"Sounds good," Damon said.
*****
They chose a long-established steakhouse in the city center. The private dining room was small, with a square table set between them. In the middle sat a sizzling cast-iron grill, sending up wisps of fragrant smoke.
They sat face-to-face.
Damon had a knack for grilling steaks. He knew exactly when to flip them and when to take them off the heat. He sliced a perfectly medium-rare piece and placed it onto Maeve's plate.
"Aren't you going to eat any?" Maeve asked.
"You go first. I'm waiting for the mushrooms to finish," Damon replied.
Maeve cut into the steak. It was tender and juicy, and the herb butter melted beautifully over the top.
"This is good," she said.
"I'm not much of a cook, but grilling is my specialty," Damon said.
Maeve laughed.
The grill continued to hiss and crackle as ribbons of steam and smoke curled into the air. The warmth gave both of their faces a gentle flush.
"Maeve Norman," Harvey said, setting down his fork.
Maeve looked up. He rarely called her by her full name.
"Yeah?" she replied.
"I have a question for you. It might be a bit direct," Damon said.
Maeve's heart skipped a beat. She set down her fork and sat up straight.
"Go ahead," she said.
Damon looked at her, the red glow from the hotpot dancing in his eyes.
"You were married before, right?" he asked.
Maeve's breath caught for a moment. "How did you know?"
"It wasn't hard to figure out," Damon said, his voice calm, not accusatory. "You've got a ring tan on your finger. The mark's faded, but I can still see it."
Maeve looked down at her left hand.
Sure enough, the faint mark was still there.
She clenched her fist.
"Yeah. I'm divorced. It's been more than a year," she said.
Damon nodded. He didn't ask why she got divorced or who her ex was.
"Let me keep going," he said.
"Go ahead," Maeve replied.
"Are you single now?" he asked, pausing for a moment and tapping his fingers lightly on the table.
Maeve's ears were burning. She blamed it on the smoke from the grill.
"Yeah," she said.
Damon's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, more like he could finally breathe again.
"Good," he said.
Then he started cooking the grilled mushrooms.
Maeve paused for a few seconds, a bit taken aback.
"So that's it?" she asked.
"Yeah," Damon replied.
"That's all you wanna know?" Maeve asked.
"Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here," Damon said, dropping the grilled mushrooms onto his plate. "Take your time."
Maeve watched him eat, his head bowed.
Suddenly, her nose stung a little. It wasn't sadness but something she couldn't quite name.
It felt like she'd been standing in the rain forever, and then someone showed up with an umbrella. He didn't ask why she hadn't found shelter, just quietly tilting it her way.
She took a deep breath and went back to her steak.
"Come on, share some duck intestines with me," Maeve said.
"You gotta grill your own," Damon replied.
"But didn't you say grilling was your specialty?" Maeve teased.
Damon glanced up at her. He let out a resigned smile, then slid half the duck intestines from his bowl into hers.
"Just this once," he said.
"Next time, I'll treat you," Maeve said.
"You said it."
After finishing their meal, the two of them walked down the street.
The November wind already carried the bite of winter. Maeve hunched her shoulders, hands stuffed deep in her coat pockets.
Damon walked on her right, taking the side closest to the street.
"Cold?" Damon asked.
"I'm okay," Maeve replied.
Without saying a word, Damon took off his scarf and gently wrapped it around her neck.
Maeve paused, caught off guard by the soft scarf, still warm from his body heat.
"Aren't you cold?" she asked.
"I just finished working out. Still got some heat left," Damon said.
Maeve burrowed into the scarf. It had that pine scent, same as back at the horse ranch.
They kept walking for a while.
The streetlights cast their shadows long, one trailing behind the other.
"Maeve," Damon said.
"Yeah?" Maeve replied.
"I want to date you."
Maeve stopped in her tracks. She turned to look at him.
Damon stopped too, facing her. The streetlight was behind him, his face half-hidden in shadow, but his eyes were bright.
"This isn't a spur-of-the-moment thing," he said, his voice low but every word clear. "It's been almost four months since that company retreat. I've been thinking about this for a long time. I'm serious."
Maeve opened her mouth. Her throat felt dry.Her throat felt dry.
"I—" she started.
"You don't have to answer right now," Damon said, taking a step forward but stopping short. "I wanted you to know. That's all."
The wind kicked up, making the scarf's tassels dance beneath her chin.
Maeve balled her hands into fists inside her pockets.
"Damon," she said.
"Yeah?" Damon replied.
"My situation it's kind of a mess."
"I know."
"You don't," Maeve said, taking a deep breath. "My ex-husband is not your average guy. He's loaded, and he's got a lot of influence. We're divorced, but there's still a lot of unfinished business between us."