When Lee’struck pulled into the driveway on Wednesday night, I tugged at the collar of my shirt nervously and tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t even know what I was nervousabout—I’d had Lee’s dick in my ass so often we’d lost count. Going out to dinner was no big deal, right?
The butterflies and I both knew I was full of shit.
“Hey,” I said when I climbed into the truck. “Let’s go.”
I didn’t want any of the guys looking out and seeing what was going on. I hadn’t told any of them I was going on a date, but I figured that Cash knew since he’d seen me dig through our closet looking for a shirt with a collar that wasn’t plaid flannel.
“Hey,” Lee said as he backed out of the driveway. I was used to seeing him in those khaki pants Bobby had decided were our uniform, with his baker’s jacket and apron and stupid little hat. Tonight he was wearing jeans that looked nice and tight on his thick thighs, some kind of retro band T-shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He looked good.
I wished it looked like I’d made an effort too. I mean, Ihad, but it probably didn’t look like it since Cash and I shopped at Goodwill and, when we were feeling especially rich, Walmart. As it was, I’d rolled up the cuffs on the dark blue shirt I was wearing to hide the fact that the buttons were missing on one sleeve. There was no hiding that I needed a new jacket, though.
“There’s a good burger place in South Hill,” Lee said as he drove. “That work for you?”
“Whatever,” I said, but the butterflies settled down some. At least I knew how to act at a burger joint.
“You had a good day?” Lee asked me as we drove out of Goose Run.
“You saw me like three hours ago at work,” I said.
“It’s small talk, Chase.”
“It’s weird.”
He snorted out a laugh. “I guess it is.”
He reached out and turned up the volume on his stereo, and the blast of classic Springsteen carried us all the way to South Hill. The place we pulled up at didn’t look like much—a low-set brick building with a flickering neon sign, a gravel parking lot out front, and a gas station across the road—but Lee said, “The nachos are great too.”
The place didn’t look fancy, but the inside was pretty nice, and once we walked through to the back, there was an outdoor garden eating area with wooden picnic tables and fire pits. It smelled pretty great too, and the combination of grilled meat and fried onions wafting through the air made my stomach growl. On the other side of the fence, large trees rose up, making it feel like we were surrounded by forest. There was even a little wooden stage in one corner of the garden, but it was empty tonight.
We sat together at a small table near a fire pit, and I looked through the menu.
“I don’t know if I want chicken wings or nachos,” I said.
“Get both,” Lee suggested. “We can share.”
I narrowed my eyes at the menu, then at him. “If we’re sharing, you’re paying.”
“I invited you,” he said. “And I already said when you agreed to come that I’m paying.”
“Then maybe I want a burger too.”
“Okay,” he said.
Great. Now I didn’t know if I wanted wings or nachos or a burger.
Lee shot me a glance across the table and said, “I’m getting the wings and nachos. We can share if you want.”
“And a burger,” I said quickly, before he changed his mind.
“Sure thing. What do you want to drink? They have a good selection of beers here.”
“Do they card you, though?”
He blinked at me. “How old are you, Chase?”
“Seems like that’s the sort of question you should have asked before you railed me in our workplace,” I said. “Repeatedly.”
Who knew someone with his skin tone could blush?
