The road to New Scenic Café is a winding ribbon along the North Shore—with Lake Superior sprawling endlessly to my right. The view is breathtaking, but not nearly as gorgeous as the woman in the seat beside me.
A knot of excitement mixed with nerves twists in my stomach as I sneak glances her way. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a first date, and never with someone like Carlie.
The women I’ve always gravitated toward have been beautiful, sure. But they often came with a whole lot of maintenance. They were all into fitness or modeling and while that’s great, I’ve definitely had trouble connecting over more than just the physical.
I can’t help but wonder if that’s where my problems really stem from—choosing women simply because I won’t have to explain my eating and workout habits.
In the car, the silence is comfortable, but I feel a conversation bubbling just beneath the surface. Glancing over at Carlie, I can’t help but notice she looks as nervous as I feel.
Time to break some ice.
“So, your grandma seemed pretty ... invested in tonight’s proceedings,” I start, a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Carlie lets out a laugh, nodding. “Oh, you have no idea. She’s like the neighborhood watch, but for my love life. She probably called every one of her friends the second we left.”
I chuckle, imagining the scene. “She seemed to approve, though. Gave us a thumbs-up and everything.”
Carlie rolls her eyes playfully. “Yeah, her approval ratings are notoriously easy to win. Just be hunky and not a serial killer, and you’re golden.”
“Good to know,” I say, feeling a sense of warmth spread through me. “So, does that mean she thinks I tick both of those boxes?”
She huffs a laugh. “Oh, yeah.”
“Really?” I say, sneaking another glance in her direction. “And what about you?”
Carlie’s hesitant as she turns to face me. “Well, the jury’s still out on the serial killer part.” She narrows her gaze and continues, “But as for the hunky ... let’s just say I wouldn’t argue with Grandma’s assessment.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” she says, her eyes meeting mine for a moment before she looks back at the road, a playful smirk on her lips. “But I reserve the right to make my own final judgment.”
“Fair enough,” I reply, focusing back on the drive. The atmosphere in the car is light and comfortable, somehow the perfect blend between playful teasing and genuine connection.
Hunky.
I can’t fight the grin that floats to my face.
I’ve been told I’m good-looking over the years, but for some reason, hearing it fall from her lips hits me a little different.
“But if you think Grandma was a menace tonight, just wait until she starts asking about our wedding plans and future grandkids when you drop me off,” she says, her tone painted with humor.
I let out a surprised laugh, glancing at her. “Is that a common topic of conversation?”
“Only every other day,” she replies with mock seriousness. “I think she’s got a bet going with her bingo friends about when I’ll finally settle down. But don’t panic. No need to rush for bingo’s sake.”
“Rushing for bingo’s sake,” I muse aloud, chuckling. “Now, there’s a new one for the books.”
Carlie’s smile is radiant, lighting up her whole face. “Just wait, it gets better. She’s even got names picked out for the grandkids.”
“That’s ... pretty forward-thinking of her.” I chuckle at the thought.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Carlie says, her laughter subsiding into a soft smile.
The conversation turns to other topics, and we share stories about our families, finding common ground in the quirks and endearing traits of our relatives.
It’s moments like these, simple and honest, that make me feel like there could be something so much deeper between us.
Before too long, we pull into the parking lot of the New Scenic Café. The quaint, rustic appearance of the place, with its warm lighting spilling out onto the patio, creates a cozy, inviting atmosphere. The ambiance promises an intimate evening, and I can sense Carlie’s excitement mixed with a touch of nervous anticipation as I park. Or maybe that’s my own.
After I shut off the car, I hurry to open her door, and Carlie greets me with a smile that’s both thankful and slightly sheepish.
“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” she quips, her tone light and playful.
“I try my best,” I reply, offering her my hand to help her out. She takes it, but not without a small grimace. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just still feeling the aftermath of Jillian’s boot camp,” she says with a wry grin. “I’m pretty sure she was secretly training me for the Hunger Games.”
I chuckle at her remark. So many book references. “Well, I’d say ‘may the odds be ever in your favor,’ but I’m not sure it will help.”
“Don’t I know it,” Carlie laughs, wrapping her hand around my bicep as we walk toward the restaurant.
I can’t help but notice Carlie’s slight hobble. It’s endearing in a way, seeing her push through the discomfort.
However, her hand on my bicep sends a warm sensation through me, and I’m acutely aware of her closeness. There’s something about her touch, even as light as it is, that sets off a flurry of nerves inside me. I glance at her, and she’s looking ahead, seemingly unaware of the effect she has on me.
Kinda glad about that, to be honest.
She catches me looking and rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind me, just embracing my new life as forever sore.”
I clear my throat, trying to refocus. “Well, hopefully, tonight will be less Hunger Games and more ... tranquil dinner date. I promise, no surprise yoga or dance-offs.”
She snickers under her breath, the soft glow of the café lights reflecting in her eyes. “I’m holding you to that.”
As we walk inside, the host greets us with a warm smile. “Table for two?”
“Yes, please,” I reply with a quick nod.
The inside is bathed in soft lighting, creating an inviting atmosphere. It’s perfect for a first date, even if I do say so myself.
We’re led to a small, intimate table near a window overlooking the lake. The view is spectacular—the vast expanse of water shimmering against the warmth of the sunset.
Carlie’s eyes drift out to the view.
“Wow, this is stunning,” she murmurs, her attention momentarily captivated by the scenery.
“I thought you might like it,” I say, pulling out her chair for her. “I’ve heard great things about their menu, too.”
“Thank you,” she says, as I help her sit.
Despite her earlier jokes about her soreness, I can tell she’s genuinely struggling a bit. I make a mental note to keep things slow and easy for her tonight. If we were past the first date, I’d even offer to run her a hot bath and give her a massage.
The thought has me sitting down quickly, as I shake the image away.
Once we’re seated, a server approaches and hands us menus.
“Can I start you off with something to drink?” he asks.
Carlie orders a glass of white wine, and I go for a craft beer from Jaded Brews. Gotta admit, I’m happy for my brother. It’s good to see his stuff in other restaurants in the area.
After the waiter leaves, I should be looking over the menu, but instead, I find myself looking at her, still somewhat in awe of how effortlessly gorgeous she is.
Her red hair is like liquid fire as it cascades over her shoulders. The dim light of the restaurant complements her features, casting soft shadows that add an air of mystique.
She catches me looking at her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with a curious expression. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I was just—”
“Here we are. Are you two ready to order?” the server interrupts, setting our drinks down in front of us.
We both blink hard, breaking our gaze from each other to face the server.
“I’d love to try the smoked pork shank, please,” Carlie says, handing the menu to him, and then turning to me.
I glance down at the menu in my hand. “I, uh—”
“I’m sorry, Adam. I should have waited,” Carlie mutters, shaking her head. “I thought you were ready.”
“No, it’s cool. I’ll have the seared duck,” I say, handing him my menu as well.
He tips his head and stalks off, leaving us again in comfortable silence.
Carlie takes a tentative sip of her wine and I reach for my beer.
“I’m so curious. What’s it like to craft your novels? Seems like it would be hard to keep track of everything,” I venture, eager to know more about her.
Carlie’s eyes light up, a hint of passion flickering behind them. “It’s like being a puppet master, in a way. You get to create these worlds, these characters, and then make them fall in love. It’s exhilarating, and frustrating, and utterly rewarding. At least, it is when the words flow easily.”
Her words peter out a bit and I take that as a sign her writing hasn’t been going so well lately.
Rather than take her down a path that feels like a sore spot, I lean in and say, “Sounds amazing. You must have an incredible imagination.”
“I mean, I guess?” she says, then her expression shifts to something more playful. “There’s also a fair bit of ... research.”
I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Research? That sounds ... intriguing. Do tell.”
She laughs, a sound that stirs something deep inside me. “Well, you have to know what you’re writing about, right? Experience is the best teacher.”
The innuendo isn’t lost on me, and I feel a warmth spread straight through my lower half. “I suppose that means your books are ... quite authentic?”
She takes another sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving mine. “Oh, I strive for authenticity. But there’s always room to learn more. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say, my voice nearly cracking.
There’s something in the way she speaks—like sex and intimacy is more than just an act. It’s something to be truly relished in.
To be experienced.
The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, and I take a long sip of my beer, trying to cool the sudden heat I’m feeling. This conversation is veering dangerously close to territory that’s both exciting and nerve-wracking.
Just then, our meals arrive, and we both turn our attention to the food. Carlie’s pork shank looks incredible and my duck is nothing short of heavenly.
She must like it, too, because she moans after a bite. “This is ... so good—in a ‘my tastebuds are on a rollercoaster’ kind of way.”
“Sounds interesting. Trade you for a bite?” I suggest, offering her a taste of mine.
She agrees, and as we switch plates, our hands briefly touch, sending a spark of electricity between us. For a moment, we lock eyes, and there’s a silent acknowledgment of the chemistry we’re both feeling.
“So, how did you end up in Duluth?” I ask, wanting to know everything I can about her.
“Well, I grew up in central Minnesota—a small town not really worth mentioning. But after college, I was trying to figure out where I wanted to live and Duluth seemed like a fun pace. My mom grew up here and my grandma—yes, the same one—still lived here. So, I figured why not give it a try?” She says, a ghost of a smile flitting to her lips. “Grandma’s getting older and needed a renter. I wanted to spend more time with her while I still can. So …”
“So, you moved upstairs,” I finish for her. “That’s really awesome of you.”
She chews on her bottom lip before taking another bite of her food.
It’s obvious she cares a lot for the people around her and based on the way she talks about her books, she desperately wants to find a kind of love and connection others only dream of.
Yet, there’s a hint of something—something dark that sometimes lingers and I can’t help but wonder who hurt her.
One thing’s for sure, she’s been through a lot, and yet she’s still here, still standing strong.
We talk about our favorite places in the city—our shared love of the Lift Bridge. The conversation flows effortlessly, and I find myself losing track of time.
It’s as if the world outside this little café has ceased to exist, and it’s just Carlie and me, sharing a piece of our lives with each other as we share a meal.
I don’t want the night to end. I want to keep talking to her—keep learning about her. Keep sharing more of myself.
As we finish our meal, Carlie looks out the window thoughtfully. The sun has set long ago and a bright crescent moon shines over the lake.
“You know, I always thought romance was something you only read about in books. But tonight feels like I’m living in one of my own stories,” she whispers. “Does that sound dorky?”
“I’m glad to be part of your story,” I say sincerely, reaching out to place my hand over hers.
She glances down at where our hands meet and a grin floats to her features. “Me too.”
“Would you like to go for a walk?” I ask as the server clears our plates. “The lake looks beautiful this time of night.”
Carlie’s eyes light up at the suggestion, but then she hesitates. “I’d love to, but fair warning, I might wobble more than walk.”
I smile, reaching out to take her hand. “I’ve got you. We’ll go slow. Let’s go make some memories.”
She grins. “Okay.”
* * *
We walk toward the shore, the rhythmic sound of the waves providing a serene soundtrack. Carlie’s hand in mine feels just right, and as we walk, she leans into me slightly. Her warmth is a welcome presence.
“Adam,” she starts, her voice tinged with humor. “If I accidentally pull you into the lake, just remember, it was nice knowing you.”
I laugh, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll take my chances.”
Under the starlit sky, with the gentle waves as our witness, I feel a connection with Carlie that goes beyond anything I’ve experienced before. It’s not just about attraction—it’s more than that.
A bond forming.
As we approach the water’s edge, the moonlight dances across the waves, casting a magical glow over our surroundings. I find a spot on the shore, a flat rock that serves as a perfect seat, and help Carlie sit down beside me.
Resting there, with the sound of the waves gently lapping at the shore, Carlie turns to me, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight.
“You know, I didn’t expect tonight to be like this. I mean, I didn’t really know what to expect,” she sighs. “It’s ... nice.”
“Nice?” I echo, playfully feigning disappointment.
She nudges me with her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, more than nice. It’s been wonderful.”
I chuckle, locking my gaze with hers.
The proximity between us narrows as we both lean in, drawn together by an invisible force. Her breath mingles with mine, and the world seems to hold its breath. Just as our lips are about to meet, a fleeting memory flashes in my mind—the sensation of a similar, electrifying moment.
But it’s Carlie’s reaction that pulls me back to reality. She pauses, her eyes widening slightly as she inhales sharply. There’s a flicker of something that crosses her face but it’s gone before I can pinpoint what it means.
“You okay?” I ask, pulling back just a bit.
She nods, but her voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. “Yeah, just ... never mind. It’s nothing.”
I study her for a moment, wondering what’s going through her mind. There’s a sense of familiarity, a connection that seems to reach beyond just this evening. But before I can ponder it further, Carlie leans in, closing the distance between us.
Our lips meet in a tender, hesitant kiss. It’s a gentle exploration—a promise of something more—as her tongue softly caresses my bottom lip.
My heart is ready to drum itself right out of my chest as I raise my right hand to the side of her face and I edge in closer.
There’s something about her kiss …
“Oh, wow,” she breathes out, pulling back just a fraction, her eyes wide and shimmering in the moonlight. There’s something in her eyes—a question, maybe—but she quickly masks it with a shaky smile.
I study her for a moment. “Carlie? Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nods quickly—a bit too quickly. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just ... the moon is really bright tonight, isn’t it?”
Her attempt to deflect is clear, and I decide not to press her, sensing she needs a moment.
“Definitely,” I agree, following her gaze to the moonlit lake.
The air between us has shifted, charged with an unspoken understanding that something significant just happened—but I just don’t know what it was.