escorted her outside, she thought Devon had called her name, but right now, all she wanted to do was be with Trent. Charlotte tried to tamp down her expectations about their date and prayed she wouldn’t blow it. The last two times she’d been the one to kiss him, and that had ended badly. She hoped that if he came back to her place tonight, she’d be able to control herself.
She looked up at Trent. “Do you think you could’ve beaten Connor?”
“Doubtful. I have every intention of spending some time at the range each week, but I seem to be too busy.”
Trent didn’t look happy about working all the time. “Have you considered slowing down? Or maybe even working as a private investigator?”
His brows rose. “Do you think I’d be happy doing what your dad does?”
She honestly hadn’t given it a lot of thought. “I know my father is a lot happier not working for the FBI because now he can pick and choose the cases he works. I think having my mother in his life again has changed him. Dad wants to spend more time with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hires someone to lighten his load.”
“I’ll keep that employment opportunity in mind, but I like to think that as a cop, I’m doing some good for society.”
His attitude was admirable. They arrived at the Steerhouse and as soon as they stepped inside, she could see this was a really nice place. “Do you come here often?”
“You mean do I take my dates here?”
She wasn’t sure what she was asking. “Maybe.”
“No. I don’t date all that often.”
The hostess seated them quickly since it was still early for dinner, and the waiter rushed over and took their drink order.
“I’ll have a glass of the house red wine,” she said.
“Beer for me.” Trent leaned back in the seat. “I don’t know what to do about you, Charlotte Hart.”
Oh, shit. “Do?”
“I like you. In fact I like you a lot.”
I knew it! She almost jumped out of her seat. Keeping calm was almost impossible, though she didn’t know why he seemed so concerned about the situation. “You have a funny way of showing it sometimes.” Damn. She just couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut. Her mom always accused her of speaking her mind too often, and she was right.
He unrolled the white linen napkin, removed the utensils, and placed the cloth on his lap. “Here’s the thing: you deserve better.”
Her jaw dropped. “How can you say that?”
“I’m good at my job and am able to protect people, but I’m not really good with emotions. You’d only get hurt in the end.”
She wished he’d stop saying that. “How about letting me decide?”
He blew out a breath and glanced to the side. “I know Harmon mentioned our dad was a cop.”
“He did, and he also said your father had high standards for himself, which you inherited.”
His eyes slightly widened. “Harmon said that?”
“Yes. Your dad was a workaholic and that in the end it cost him his health and his wife. Is that what you’re aspiring to?”
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “I’m not trying to be like my dad. I know I have my faults, but helping people makes me feel good.”
“Helping people makes me feel good, too, but it doesn’t mean you have to give your life for the job. There are more important things than work.” Like someone to love.
The waiter delivered their drinks, and Trent tipped back his beer. “I’m not sure if I can change. Being ambitious is built into who I am as a person.”
His answer seemed too simple. “What about your mother?”
His green eyes darkened. “I guess Harmon didn’t tell you the whole story. My mother was killed a year after she divorced my father. I was only twelve.”
Pain stabbed her gut. She wished she hadn’t asked. “I’m very sorry.”
He dragged his thumb down the label tearing the paper into shreds. “I was at her house complaining about having no cookies to eat. I whined so much that she gave in and went to the store. On her
She looked up at Trent. “Do you think you could’ve beaten Connor?”
“Doubtful. I have every intention of spending some time at the range each week, but I seem to be too busy.”
Trent didn’t look happy about working all the time. “Have you considered slowing down? Or maybe even working as a private investigator?”
His brows rose. “Do you think I’d be happy doing what your dad does?”
She honestly hadn’t given it a lot of thought. “I know my father is a lot happier not working for the FBI because now he can pick and choose the cases he works. I think having my mother in his life again has changed him. Dad wants to spend more time with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hires someone to lighten his load.”
“I’ll keep that employment opportunity in mind, but I like to think that as a cop, I’m doing some good for society.”
His attitude was admirable. They arrived at the Steerhouse and as soon as they stepped inside, she could see this was a really nice place. “Do you come here often?”
“You mean do I take my dates here?”
She wasn’t sure what she was asking. “Maybe.”
“No. I don’t date all that often.”
The hostess seated them quickly since it was still early for dinner, and the waiter rushed over and took their drink order.
“I’ll have a glass of the house red wine,” she said.
“Beer for me.” Trent leaned back in the seat. “I don’t know what to do about you, Charlotte Hart.”
Oh, shit. “Do?”
“I like you. In fact I like you a lot.”
I knew it! She almost jumped out of her seat. Keeping calm was almost impossible, though she didn’t know why he seemed so concerned about the situation. “You have a funny way of showing it sometimes.” Damn. She just couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut. Her mom always accused her of speaking her mind too often, and she was right.
He unrolled the white linen napkin, removed the utensils, and placed the cloth on his lap. “Here’s the thing: you deserve better.”
Her jaw dropped. “How can you say that?”
“I’m good at my job and am able to protect people, but I’m not really good with emotions. You’d only get hurt in the end.”
She wished he’d stop saying that. “How about letting me decide?”
He blew out a breath and glanced to the side. “I know Harmon mentioned our dad was a cop.”
“He did, and he also said your father had high standards for himself, which you inherited.”
His eyes slightly widened. “Harmon said that?”
“Yes. Your dad was a workaholic and that in the end it cost him his health and his wife. Is that what you’re aspiring to?”
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “I’m not trying to be like my dad. I know I have my faults, but helping people makes me feel good.”
“Helping people makes me feel good, too, but it doesn’t mean you have to give your life for the job. There are more important things than work.” Like someone to love.
The waiter delivered their drinks, and Trent tipped back his beer. “I’m not sure if I can change. Being ambitious is built into who I am as a person.”
His answer seemed too simple. “What about your mother?”
His green eyes darkened. “I guess Harmon didn’t tell you the whole story. My mother was killed a year after she divorced my father. I was only twelve.”
Pain stabbed her gut. She wished she hadn’t asked. “I’m very sorry.”
He dragged his thumb down the label tearing the paper into shreds. “I was at her house complaining about having no cookies to eat. I whined so much that she gave in and went to the store. On her
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