The dim light of the cozy restaurant flickered gently, casting warm shadows on the brick walls. Lance Sweets sat at the table, his hands nervously fidgeting with the corner of the menu. He adjusted his tie for the third time, his mind replaying Booth’s not-so-subtle grin when he’d said, “Trust me, Sweets, you’ll thank me later.”

Then the door opened, and there she was with that same sharp confidence she carried in the field, but softer now, framed by the golden glow of the room.

“Dr. Sweets,” he greeted her voice as smooth as ever, a mix of professionalism and teasing familiarity.*