“And you’re fine with a few innocent people getting put away in the process?”

“Of course not.”

“It happens.”

“And dolphins get caught in fishing nets. But that didn’t stop you from ordering fish for dinner.”

Her mouth drops open and she glares at me like she can’t believe what a complete and total asshole I am. My whole body goes hot. I can’t believe that just came out of my stupid fucking mouth either. I’ve just equated her brother to so much debris that inadvertently gets swept up in the greater good of the justice system’s net. I thought Cora would be the one to ruin our date. But no, it’s me. I’ve fucked this up so badly I don’t see any way of recovering it.

And they haven’t even brought us our salads yet.

She snaps her jaw shut with a click I can hear across the table. Her lips flatten and the blue of her eyes is barely visible. I’ve seen myriad emotions on Cora. By far this is the scariest I’ve ever seen her. It’s worse even than her tears, and at the same time she’s so goddamn beautiful, glaring at me across the candlelit table, that I’m struck again by how fucking lucky I am to be in the same room with her, let alone out on this date.

“So,” she says, “basically your justice-system philosophy equates to: You can’t bake a cake without breaking a few eggs?”

“It’s not that simple and you know it. There is no black and white here. Our justice system is the greatest in the world and I have to believe that the vast majority of the people working in it are good and genuinely interested in seeing justice served. Otherwise what’s the point of it all?”

“A part of me knows you’re right, but the other part of me knows firsthand that our justice system is not just. It’s as flawed as the mortals running it. And when you involve people in everything from religion to our court system you invite greed, revenge, laziness, and ambition. People are selfish. They’ll put their own goals and desires before others in a hot minute.”

“Maybe I have more faith in humanity than you do.”

“You definitely do, because I don’t have any at all.”

The waiter appears at the table with our salads and slides them in front of us. “Freshly ground pepper?”

“No, thank you.”

“Yes, please.”

We can’t even agree on fucking pepper.

“Can I get anything else for you?”

We both shake our heads.

“Your dinners will be out shortly.”

The waiter is gone and so is the energy at our table. I’m not going to convince her to see my side and there’s no way I’ll ever see hers. We chew in silence, the clinking and clanking of our silverware unusually loud in the void. There are so many fundamental differences between us it’s a miracle we can stand to be in the same room with each other.

Cora sets her fork down and wipes her mouth. “What did Beau tell you?”

“He broke up with Cassandra because she was seeing someone else.”

“Did he know who?”

“No, but he said her friend Maisy might. I’m going to see if I can talk to her, maybe use the law-student-studying-a-local-case angle. I’m also going to try to take a run at Zelda to see if she might know where Mrs. Wheeler is.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said he gets phone privileges once a week and that if I have any more questions for him I should call instead of driving out there.”

“What did you say to him to get him to cooperate?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. What did you say?”

“He didn’t want to answer my questions at first. I reminded him how stubborn and relentless you’ve been on his behalf and that it didn’t matter what he said. You’ll never give up on him, so he may as well help out.”

“That’s not all you said.”

“No, but that’s between him and me.”

She eyes me like she’s trying to decide if she’s going to kick me in the nuts or punch me in the face.

“I got him to cooperate,” I say. “I thought you’d be ecstatic about that.”

“I am.”

“So that’s your ecstatic face?”

“No, this is my pissed-off-at-my-brother face mixed with my frustrated-with-you face.”

I laugh. She never does or says what I expect her to.

The waiter arrives with our dinners, sets them in front of us, does the usual can-I-get-you-anything-else thing, and leaves.

Cora stares down at her plate.

“Something wrong?”

“Fish doesn’t sound as good as it did when I ordered it.”

“Want to switch for my chicken?”

“Actually…yes.”

I swap our plates.

She looks so relieved. “Thank you.”

“I figured it’s the least I could do since I don’t seem to have a problem with breaking eggs and dolphin casualties.”

She pauses with a bite of chicken inches from her mouth. “I wasn’t exactly being fair with you earlier. I do know that you won’t be like the prosecutors who go after convictions no matter the cost.”

“Thank you. Besides complimenting my ass, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She covers her mouth and laughs, deep-throated and sexy. This is the first time I’ve ever made her laugh. And only the second time I’ve ever seen her do it. I have got to get her to do it more often. Whatever it takes. She’s someone who should be laughing all the time. In the photo I saw of her and her brother at her place I could tell she once was someone who laughed freely and openly. I bet she never covered her mouth or somehow managed to look guilty doing it back then.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I fumble out.

She stops laughing, a bewildered expression replacing her joy. She looks down at her plate. “Thank you.”

She’s embarrassed. I’ve embarrassed Cora Hollis. I didn’t think it was possible, like not even remotely. She’s even blushing. This is a side of her I’ve never seen. I like it. A lot.

“So, cosmetology school?” I ask her.

“What?”

“You told that realtor you were in cosmetology school.”

“Oh, yeah.” She shrugs. “I had to tell her something.”

“Is that something you want to do?”

“Maybe someday.”

“Have you looked into it?”

“No. Even if I had the time, I don’t have the money.”

“Do you do your own hair?”

She nods. “And some of my friends’ hair too.”

“You must be very good if they’re willing to let you work on them without going to school.”

One of her shoulders goes up. “I haven’t melted off anybody’s hair yet.”

“Would you cut mine?”

“I could.”

“I’d pay you. I mean, I pay a lady now. I may as well pay you instead.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Do your friends pay you?”

“Or we trade.”

“So then why won’t you take my money?”

“With you it would be more like a trade. You got Beau to agree to talk about Cassandra. I owe you about twenty haircuts for that.”

Now I’m the one who’s embarrassed. “I didn’t do that to get something in return.”

“If you want me to cut your hair you’re going to have to let me do it for trade.”

“How about for dates?”

“Leo…” she starts.

I’ve taken it too far, but hey, it was worth a shot. “Just kidding.”

She looks at me for a moment like she’s trying to figure out if I really am joking or not. I’m not. Despite how disastrous this date’s been, I want to take her out again.

Somehow we manage to finish dinner and dessert without me pissing her off again and now I’m standing on her front porch with her. The moon is huge and low in the sky, hanging over us like a lantern. Cora by Moonlight. That’s what I’ll call this moment. I lean in for a kiss, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she says.

Yes, it is. It’s a damn good idea. “Why?”

“Look, I like you—”

“Oh, hell.” No good conversation ever starts that way.

“No, I mean it. I do like—”

I silence her with a kiss, backing her up against her front door. I pour everything I have in me into this kiss. I want her to know all the things I can’t say before she shuts the door on me, on the possibility of us. She kisses me back and I take advantage, using every ounce of skill I have to get her to change her mind. I want her to want me the way I want her.