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While she wanted to argue that she was perfectly capable of paying for her own lunch and would prefer it that way, his elated mood was infectious, and she hated to kill the buzz with an argument. So, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the outdoor order window.
“The food at this place is out of this world,” he said, still holding her hand.
She wiggled her fingers, but he seemed to have no plans to release her, so she sighed and went along with it. Besides, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit, at least to herself, how great it felt to have her smaller hand wrapped in his big one.
Only one person waited in front of them in line. Then, before she knew it, they were at the counter.
“Trust me to order?” he asked, which immediately had her spine straightening.
Her knee-jerk reaction was to say, “hell no,” and order for herself. Her husband always ordered for her when they’d gone out to eat. And by ordered for her, she meant chose her meal no matter what she wanted. Every time it was a salad or something equally unsatisfying. And heaven forbid she try to get some dessert.
But the look on Curly’s face showed nothing of a desire to control her. And he’d asked rather than do it without her approval. He seemed so excited to introduce her to his favorite eatery, so again she found herself compromising her normal actions and nodding. “Go ahead.”
“All right.” He rubbed his hands together as the teen behind the counter asked. “Welcome to Fredia’s Fish Shack, what can I getcha today?”
“Two grouper baskets and two lemonades,” Curly said. “You are gonna love this. Fish, potatoes, grease, and ice-cold lemonade. It’s heaven in a basket.”
Her mouth watered at the sound of it. The incredible smell of fried fish wafting from the restaurant had her stomach rumbling in the most attractive way.
Not five minutes later, they were seated on the beach with piping hot fish sandwiches, watching the gentle waves of the Gulf.
“Thank you,” Curly said after swallowing his first monster-sized bite.
“Mm-hmm,” she managed as she bit into her sandwich. Damn, that was delicious. Seasoned perfectly, crispy, with fresh lettuce, tomato, and tartar sauce. “Wow, that’s so good.”
“Right?”
“Why did you thank me?”
Though they sat side by side, they both turned their heads toward each other. “I was in a shit mood. You could have easily told me to fuck off, but you tagged along. I appreciate it. Turned my foul morning into a perfect day.”
An odd tightness entered her chest. Or maybe it was warmth. Something squishy and not entirely comfortable. “Well,” she said as she lifted her sandwich. “I did it for the food.”
When he didn’t laugh as she’d hoped, she nudged his shoulder with hers.
“Wanna talk about whatever had you all spun up?”
He shoved a fry in his mouth then chased it with a long sip of lemonade. Just when she thought he’d completely ignore the question, he spoke. “Got pulled over on my way home from the pet store. It was a bullshit stop. Some cop who was around during the investigation and my trial who wanted to let me know he’d be keeping an eye on me.”
“What?” she said, dropping her sandwich in the basket. “Well, that is bullshit. He does know you’re innocent, right?”
“Asked him that very same question. I have no proof, of course, but I always suspected he had some hand in my framing. Even if he just looked the other way. Pretty sure he knows Prick.”
Well, that explained the douchebaggery. “I’m sorry.”
“Eh, it just brought up some unpleasant memories and shot my attitude to shit. A good ride always helps that.” He nudged her shoulder back. “Good company even more.”
Brooke swallowed down a bubble of emotion that welled. It felt nice to be needed by someone. To know her mere presence had helped soothe his soul. “Was it as awful as I imagine it would be?” she asked.
He understood she meant being in prison without her having to elaborate. “No. It was worse.”
“To say I’m sorry for what you went through seems so inadequate. I suppose there aren’t any words to make it remotely acceptable.” She’d admired his muscles and how strong they made him, but his true strength came from with. No everyone could endure what he had and not be a bitter, miserable person.
“No, there aren’t,” he said with a sigh as he gazed out over the watery horizon. Then he faced her way again. “I imagine you know a little about that.”
Shaking her head, she bit into a crisp fry. “No. Our situations were nothing alike. I willingly walked into my marriage. The stupid mistake was my own.”
“So you deserved it?” His expression darkened.
“No. Of course not. I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to compare being in a loveless, abusive marriage to being jailed for a crime I didn’t commit.”
