“You know that’s literally his job, right? That’s what you pay him for. To kick your ass and you say thank you for the footprint. What are you working on?”
“Landmine rows, seated rows, Tabata boxing for arms and step ups onto the bench with kettle bells for legs until I want to cry.”
He nods, an approving grin lighting up his face as we turn onto Center Point Road. “Nothing quite beats lifting heavy shit and putting it back down.”
“Okay, Phil.” My scoff makes him laugh. “Someday I’m going to out lift you, and then you’ll be sorry. I keep telling Phil the only reason I keep showing up is because I can’t lift his body weight yet. Someday I’m going to be able to lift his dead body, and that’s when he should be really scared.”
He scratches his chin as he pulls into the parking lot. “I’ll keep that in mind. When you start deadlifting and bench pressing, I’ll keep closer tabs on your workouts.”
Playfully punching his bicep, I laugh. “You’d better. There’ll come a day I can deadlift your ass too.”
“Can’t wait.” He blows me an air kiss as he gets out of the SUV and crosses in front of the hood. When he opens the door, he offers me his hand, and I can’t help but smile. Butterflies and bees are both going crazy in my stomach, and I’m regretting not wearing something more… I dunno, something.
He holds my hand as we walk through the parking lot and into the restaurant bar. He only lets go when the hostess brings us to our table, and even then, he takes my hand again as soon as I’m seated.
The bar isn’t packed, but it’s also not empty. There’s a nice ambient undercurrent buzz of chatter while he toes at my boot with his shoe.
The warmth, the connection, his need to be touching me is intoxicating, and I’m struck by a flashback to our first date that smacks me square in the chest.
“What is it, Firecracker?”
Pushing the lump in my throat aside, I try to find my voice. “Just thinking back to the last time we did this.” A one shoulder shrug hopefully downplays the emotions swirling in my chest.
“Will you tell me about it once we’ve ordered?”
I nod, though I’m not sure how to keep the tears at bay.
“Do you mind if I…?” He points at the menu, and I smile.
“Feels like ordering for both of us might be your thing. You did it last time too.”
He winks at me. “Can’tnotorder something that’s called firecracker shrimp, right?” He turns to the server. “Firecracker shrimp, pickle chips, and jacked mac bites please. Then we’ll share the tenderloin.”
“Extra bun and side?”
“Of course.” He almost laughs at her question, which makes me laugh too.
“And what’s your sides?”
“Tots for two, please.”
None of this sounds bad to me. In fact, it all has my mouth watering, so I stay silent and just let the man work.
“Sure. And drinks?”
We both order pop and water, and with his free hand, Raffi smacks his stomach. “Just wait until you taste this.”
I’m quickly learning food is this man’s love language. And it’s adorable how excited he gets about it.
“What?” He’s staring expectantly at me.
“How do you know I’m thinking something?”
“You get this look.” He points at my face. “Like you’re trying to figure out a puzzle.”
“I was wondering what it is about food that gets you so excited. You have a thing about food.”
“Doesn’t everyone? Some people’s food things are unhealthy, some are super healthy, and mine…” He shrugs. “I’ve loved food since I was a kid. Every picture in my childhood album involves food in some way. And so it should. There’s no greater pleasure than delicious food.” So much joy shines through him that it’s hard not to smile.
