Mania. Craig Larsen

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      The small, rustic restaurant was cozy and warm, crowded to capacity, its linen-topped tables laden with plates of freshly grilled fish and frosty glasses of chilled white wine. Coming inside from the crisp evening, Sara stood close to Nick, snuggling up to him as they waited for the hostess. Nick’s temper flared as they were being seated, though, when he noticed the sandy-haired man sitting with a young woman at a table next to the window.

      “Don’t let a man like that ruin a beautiful evening,” Sara said to him a few minutes later. She touched Nick on the shoulder, and he noticed that she had poured him a glass of wine. He lifted the glass to his lips, determined to ignore the man and his date.

      I should’ve just bought him out, the man said as the waitress set an icy plate of caviar in the center of the table between Nick and Sara. His voice bellowed through the tiny restaurant. The opportunity arose, and I coulda had him at a good price. Nick did his best to block the conversation out. He was aware of the way the man kept staring at Sara, though. His brow was sweaty, and he found himself barely able to control his hatred for the man.

      Nick became aware of Sara’s fingers on his forearm. She played with his sleeve, then ran her fingers up toward his bicep, demanding his attention. “Where did you go all of a sudden?” he heard her ask.

      He shifted in his chair, taking her in. “Nowhere,” he said, smiling. “I’m right here.”

      “So tell me something, Nick.”

      Once again, Nick became aware of her fingers on his arm, drawing him into her orbit.

      “What did you think when you first saw me this morning?”

      Nick raised his eyebrows, surprised by the question. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, he wanted to say. “You reminded me of someone,” he said instead.

      “An old girlfriend,” she guessed.

      “I was just a kid.”

      “She was blond, too?”

      Nick shrugged.

      “What was her name?”

      “Elizabeth Munroe. We were neighbors, back in Wisconsin. We grew up together.”

      “The girl next door.”

      Nick acknowledged the cliché. “I was really young,” he said again.

      “Was there any chance you’d say no?”

      Nick didn’t understand the question.

      “This morning. When I asked you out,” Sara explained. “You hesitated for a couple of seconds before you said yes.”

      Nick smiled. He had paused because she had taken his breath away. “I doubt I would have been able to tell you my own name,” he said.

      “I thought you were pretty cool. You’d be surprised by some of the reactions I get from men.”

      Nick bit his tongue. He wouldn’t have been surprised at all.

      “So tell me about Sam—about your brother, I mean.”

      Despite himself, Nick felt his shoulders stiffen. At that price, anyone woulda bought him out. The joker was desperate. In over his head. Nick felt his eyes sweep across the small restaurant to the man in the Hawaiian shirt.

      “Nick?” Sara’s fingers were caressing his arm.

      “What do you want to know?”

      “Is he jealous of his younger brother?”

      “Jealous? Sam?”

      “Yeah. He strikes me as the jealous type. You look surprised. Am I wrong?”

      “People usually assume it’s the other way around, that’s all.”

      “What—that you’re jealous of Sam?”

      Nick felt himself flush, uncertain why. He didn’t want to admit to Sara that he might have reason to envy his older brother. “Sure—yeah. He’s always been, well, the successful one. Ever since I can remember, he’s always seemed to know what he wants and how to get it.”

      “That doesn’t sound like something to be jealous of,” Sara said. She squeezed Nick’s arm, then took her hand away to take a drink of her wine. Nick swam in her regard. “I’d be jealous of you if I were him,” she said. “After all, you’re the one who got the girl.”

      After dinner, realizing they had just twenty minutes before the nine-thirty ferry back to Seattle, they hurried outside. Without warning, Sara grabbed Nick by his hands as they were crossing the gravel parking lot. She pulled him to her and kissed him. Nick drew her body against his, aware of her warmth, aware of the taste of wine on her lips. Her fingers were soft as they found the skin beneath his shirt. And then the moment was interrupted.

      Nick heard footsteps on the gravel lot, and the sandy-haired man and his young blond date stepped toward them from the shadows.

      The man let a whistle out through his teeth. “Young love,” he said just behind them. “How nice it is.” When Nick broke away from Sara, the man looked him in the eye. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch to get a taste of lips as sweet as that.”