Intercepting Daisy by Julie Brannagh Page B

burn everything, we can go out again.”
    â€œPerfect,” she said. “What else do you like to do?”
    â€œI like the outdoors too. I tried rock climbing for the first time during the off-season last year. It’s fun, but I had to stop.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œThere’s a clause in my contract that I can’t participate in any activity that might injure me before training camp. It’s part of dealing with my job, but it can get old.”
    â€œSo no race-car driving,” she said.
    â€œNo race cars, no motocross, no shooting myself out of a cannon. I’ll have to come up with something quieter, like knitting.”
    â€œKnitting needles can be dangerous,” she teased.
    â€œAbsolutely. I could jab myself in the finger or strangle myself with one of those circular needles I’ve seen my mom knit with,” he said.
    â€œI read a few months ago that your parents are pastors. Is that true?”
    â€œYes,” he said. He needed to change the subject as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to spend the evening answering questions about his parents. He loved them, but he wanted to find out about her more. “Their church is in Texas.” He took a sip of water. “Do your parents live here?” he blurted out. “What do they do?”
    â€œMy parents live in Redmond. My dad works for Bank of America, and my mom just retired from teaching high school English.”
    She picked up her water glass and took a sip. She didn’t seem any more willing to answer questions about them than he was about his own family, but he wanted to hear more about her.
    â€œWere they surprised when you became a flight attendant, or was it something you’d been planning for a while?”
    This all sounded like a job interview to him—general questions about their backgrounds and interests, nothing about what he’d like to discuss. He was having a great time with her, but he wished he could think of something more original to talk to her about. If he was planning on making a move, he usually didn’t bother with dinner. He’d meet up with a woman at the bar; a few drinks would be consumed, and he’d call an Uber to get to her place. It occurred to him that he’d been on so many dates during which there was little to no conversation involved that he had no idea what to do next.
    Actually, that wasn’t accurate. He knew what to do next. But for once in his life, he knew it wasn’t the right move. He wanted to get to know Daisy before they went to bed for the first time. That realization sent a cold shiver up his spine. Getting to know her meant that they would have to talk, and that meant that he’d be revealing himself to someone else.
    Her lips curved into a smile. “Welcome back,” she said. “You were a little lost in thought there.”
    The server chose that moment to arrive at the table with their bottle of wine, a basket of bread, and a small container of whipped butter. He poured a half an inch or so in the bottom of Grant’s glass. “Try that and let me know what you think of it,” he said.
    Grant swirled the glass and sipped the wine. The tastes of black cherry and oak burst over his tongue, accompanied by a pleasant fullness. Hopefully, Daisy would enjoy it too.
    â€œIt’s good.”
    The server filled their wineglasses and put the bottle back down on the table. “I’ll be back shortly with your entrées,” he said.
    She took a sip of wine and put her glass back down on the table.
    â€œDo your parents come to your games?” she asked.
    â€œNope. Sundays are for church,” he said.
    â€œThey’ve never been to a game?”
    â€œThey show up when we’re playing on Monday night or Thursday.”
    â€œWhat happens when you become the starting quarterback? Won’t they take a week off to see you?” She swirled the stemless wineglass in her