"Can I get you anything?"

Billy turned back to face the bartender. "No, that's alright. I'm just waiting for someone." He looked back towards the stairs again. The keys he held in his hand felt heavier with each passing moment. Her car had been dropped off nearly an hour ago and her bags had been taken upstairs. Yet, he still sat here, waiting for her.

Maybe she'd changed her mind and decided not to come down after all, but surely she would have sent a message. Maybe she'd gotten a phone call, maybe … He stopped and stood to his feet quickly, resolving not to allow his brain to continue to spin these ridiculous scenarios. He looked down at the keys again. It might come across as a little forward, but hopefully it would lead to a most enjoyable dinner.

"She looked into the full length mirror once more. The dress was casual enough, a printed sheath that fell just above her knee. She double checked the shoes again and wondered for the third time if they sent the wrong message, if the straps and heel made this seem far more flirtatious than she intended. It had been a long time since she'd had dinner with a man – at least one she hadn't known since high school. The last thing she wanted to do was give the wrong impression and …

Her entire body tensed as she heard the knock on the door. Maybe it was about her car, she thought as she rushed towards the door and slowly pulled it open.

Billy took a step back as he saw the door open. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I saw them come up with your things a while ago and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay and …" He held out a set of keys. "They dropped off your car and I wanted to give you these."

"Thanks." She felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "I'm sorry it's taking me so long. I had to run the steamer over my clothes and sadly this is best I could come up with." She gestured down to the dress she wore.

"I certainly don't think you need to apologize. You look great."

"Well, in comparison to earlier, I guess …" She giggled and glanced back over her shoulder towards the rest of the clothing she'd considered for the evening.

He followed her gaze. "You trying to decide on the outfit for tomorrow?"

"Yes." It was an obvious attempt by him to allow her to save face, but she readily accepted. "Interviews are always stressful. Men always have it so much easier. A suit is a suit, right?"

"Come on," he joked. "There's the color of the suit, print of the tie, suit coat or jacket. There's a least a million choices and then the make up." He laughed at the slight roll of her eyes. "Alright, so it is pretty easy, but we do have to think about shoes."

"You poor unfortunate souls," she sighed. "I'll say a prayer for you tonight." Her eyes moved to her bag on the table. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. You ready to head downstairs?"

He nodded and extended held the door open for her. "After you," he said with a smile.

He couldn't help but watch her as she slowly let the red wine swirl in her glass for a moment before taking a sip.

"What?" She laughed softly as she felt his eyes on her. "If there's something you want to say, just say it."

"I was thinking about earlier … something you said at the bar. You said you understood what it felt like for people to expect you to screw up all the time."

She nodded wordlessly.

"You don't exactly look like the posterchild for screwing up. I mean you've got a pretty sweet ride out there and you've obviously got a pretty extensive wardrobe." His eyes twinkled in jest even as his words were more serious. "I was just wondering."

"What kind of screwing up I'm accustomed to?" She laughed softly as she saw the slight look of horror pass across his face. "It's okay," she breathed. "I don't mind talking about it. I'm actually impressed it hasn't made the rounds here."

"Well, you know it takes a lot to stun people in this town. They've got some pretty impressive feats to compare things to." He brushed his hands down the front of his chest pridefully.

"You?" She took another sip of wine. "Well now my curiosity is peaked. What kind of scandals are you involved in, Mr. Abbott?"

He held out the glass of scotch towards her. "How about we make a deal. One for one. I'll show you a skeleton in my closet if you'll dust off one of yours."

She grinned and pulled back her wine glass a bit. "Wait just a minute, what makes you think my skeletons are dusty?"

"You strike me as more a reformed screwup," he whispered. "A recovering disgrace if you will."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," she smiled and let her glass clink against his.