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then sat on the dark-stained wooden bench outside the charming restaurant, which was situated right on Whitefish Lake.
    It was a beautiful evening in the fall, and although I needed a jacket the weather wasn’t chilly enough to warrant a hat and gloves yet. The sun sat low in the sky, illuminating a tree beside the road, whose branches hung heavy with amber leaves. Crisp air circled my calves, and I pulled my jacket tight.
    My date may not be here yet, but this was the perfect time of day to watch passersby stroll along the trail of shops and restaurants parallel to the lake and the jagged tree-lined mountains provided a breathtaking backdrop.
    Sitting on the bench, I watched an elderly couple amble past me holding hands, the wife peering into various store windows—not likely to be locals with their fanciful expressions. We still get the occasional vacationers this time of year. Summer’s the golden time for tourism here, but winter brings in lots of skiers to Big Mountain. A family of four entered a popular pizza place across the street, and a group of guys headed into the highly frequented brewery on the corner.
    None of them, however, were Dave.
    I checked my watch and now it was five minutes before six o’clock, our meeting time. I knew I shouldn’t be disappointed that he hadn’t shown up early, but it felt odd knowing I was obviously way more enthusiastic than he was about our date. Was it possible I’d only imagined the electricity between us?
    The front door to Danica’s opened beside me and someone stepped out. “Holly?” a husky male voice asked.
    I glanced up, my gaze colliding with stormy blue eyes. His dark medium-length hair looked timeless brushed away from his face, the ends of the thick strands tucked behind his ears. My stomach did a somersault. Oh, yeah. The sparks were still there, for sure.
    I stood on wobbly legs, giving him a shy smile. “Dave. Hi.”
    “Hi.” His mouth curved upward and he bent his head sideways as if he’d been caught doing something secretive. “I, uh, scoped out the restaurant early to get the best table.”
    Wait, that meant he’d arrived way before I had. “You . . . did?”
    “Does by the fireplace work for you?” He held the door open, gesturing in a gentlemanly way for me to go through first. “The table has an incredible view of the lake.”
    “Sounds wonderful.” As I passed by him, the scent of his sandalwood cologne intoxicated me, making me want to lean in and nuzzle his neck.
    “He could be an axe murderer . . .” My mother’s voice invaded my brain, jerking me out of my snuggly thoughts.
    Obviously, I didn’t think Dave had bodies buried in the backyard of his mountain top home. But my mom’s voice was a good reminder to take things slow and not get my hopes up that our first date would turn into something more.
    Then again, he had been thoughtful enough to secure the best spot in the restaurant for us. Major improvement from the last guy I’d dated, whose dinner invitation turned out to be heating up a frozen pizza in his microwave then eating it in front of his television while watching a football game. Snooze!
    My stomach danced with anticipation as Dave and I followed the hostess to our table. Once we were seated, she handed him a wine menu, which he promptly opened. “Do you prefer red or white?” he asked, looking at me.
    “Actually, I prefer beer.” I pressed my lips together, waiting for his reaction. Men usually liked it when I revealed my beverage-of-choice.
    “Really?” Dave’s brows rose appreciatively and the corners of his mouth tipped up as he scrutinized the beer selection. “Any recommendations on a local brew?”
    I gave him the name of my favorite just as our waitress appeared.
    “Holly Andrews.” Michele’s face lit up as she smiled at me. “I thought that was you. We missed you on the bike ride last week. Where have you been hiding?”
    Uh-oh. I hadn’t realized Michele would be working tonight. She was a