Meghan’s P.O.V.
The warm, inviting glow of the small diner greeted me as Blade opened the door for me, ushering me inside with a hand at the small of my back. The scent of sizzling meat and fresh tortillas filled the air, and the hum of quiet chatter gave the place a cozy, intimate feel. I glanced around, noting the vintage decor—checkered floors, chrome-edged tables, and bright red booths. It was charming, unpretentious, and exactly my speed.
“See?” I said, turning to Blade.
“This is perfect.”
Blade made a mock grimace.
“It’s fine. But I still say we should’ve gone to Koda’s restaurant. Candlelight, a private table, five-star service.”
I snorted, sliding into one of the booths.
“Yeah, because nothing says ‘first date’ like a waiter hovering over us, judging how many tacos I can
