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Well, ha, he wore it like the shirt had been painted on and the jeans custom fit.
Shit, she’d made a grave error in judgment.
How on earth had she expected to share a meal with the first man to give her an orgasm in over five years and not feel awkward as hell? Chalk it up to lack of experience, or so much time having passed since she’d been with a guy she completely forgot about the goddammed morning after, whatever. Moral of the story…she had no idea what to say to the man who looked like he just walked off the cover of some Harley magazine.
He, of course, came off totally at ease as he perused the menu. Probably had a different woman in his bed every weekend.
God, he must think her such a fool.
“So what’s good here?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
She could have kissed him—only for breaking the silence, not because she remembered how intoxicating his kisses were.
Wait? What had he asked? “Um, sorry? What’d you say?”
His eyes sparkled over his menu as though he had a secret insight to her thoughts. “What do you recommend?”
Oh, food, right. “I always get the spicy chicken biscuit. It’s incredible. A huge piece of spicy fried chicken with pepper jack cheese and bacon all on a homemade biscuit. And I promise these are the best biscuits you’ll ever eat. And I’m not just saying that because the owner, Koryn, is a friend.”
“That’s high praise,” he said with an open grin that helped put her at ease. “Don’t forget I grew up here in the south, so I’ve had my fair share of biscuits.”
She gave him a sassy smirk. “I stand by my statement.”
“You like it hot, huh?”
“What?” she asked, nearly choking on her saliva. Where the hell was their waitress?
“Your food? You like spicy food?” The way he pressed his lips together said he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“Oh.” She needed to get out more. Go on some dates, so she didn’t make such a fool of herself. “Yes. I do.”
“All right,” he said as their waitress walked over.
She seemed to be in her late twenties, early thirties at most. Her friendly smile and casual dress of denim and a company T-shirt fit with the welcoming environment.
“Mornin’, folks. I’m Sally, and I’ll be takin’ care of ya’ll today.” She was adorable in short denim shorts, a fitted T-shirt, the smooth skin of the youthful, and the kind of figure Brooke had only managed when practically starving herself at her husband’s behest. “Can I start ya’ll off with some coffee?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
“Make that two,” Curly added.
“Perfect. Ready to order?” She faced Curly as she spoke, which had Brooke’s hackles rising. Now that she’d told him her favorite meal, he’d probably order it for her, and there wasn’t anything that irked her more than when a man ordered her food as though she couldn’t speak for herself.
“I believe…” Curly started as he shut his menu with a charming smile or the waitress.
Brooke resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but it was tough.
Really tough.
“I believe I’m going to let the regular decide for me since this is my first visit.” As he handed the menu to Sally, his amused gaze fell to Brooke.
She blinked at him. This wasn’t the first time the man surprised her, and she had to admit, she loved it. “Spicy okay with you?” she asked him.
“Pretty sure you know the answer to that by now.” He winked, and Brooke swore Sally swooned.
Face hot as the coffee she’d soon be drinking, Brooke forced herself to look at their waitress. “We’ll each have the spicy chicken biscuit. And can we get some sweet rolls as well?”
“You got it. Excellent choices. Be back with that coffee in a shake.” She spun and flounced toward the kitchen. Even Brooke couldn’t help but take a peek at her ass as she walked. Every man in the room seemed to be doing the same, but when she faced forward again, she found Curly’s intense gaze on her and her alone.
She unfolded then refolded her napkin, needing something to do with her hands. “So, Jinx?” she asked. Easier to dive right in rather than obsess about what he was thinking. Or to wonder about what he wanted from her. Or remember the way those hands felt on her. Or his mouth.
Ugh.
Last night had been the stupidest thing she’d done in ages. Okay, the second stupidest. Confronting on her own won that award. Last night had been the most fun and pleasurable, but one of the most foolish as well. She’d spent hours staring at the ceiling, bouncing between questioning her sanity and replaying their encounter in her head before she finally fell asleep. She’d even pulled out her trusty vibrator as soon as she’d awakened and relived the moment in her mind yet again.
