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He itched to go up behind her and grip her hips. He’d liked the feel of her curvaceous ass against thighs a little too much. She wasn’t exactly short with her weird shoe-things on, but she didn’t top five and half feet either.
Those handful of inches would have been helpful in the shower.
Okay, no thinking about her and water. Not smart.
He swallowed and stepped up behind her at the counter. When he touched her shoulder, she startled, then she melted against him. “So are you a loaded pizza person? Or more like greasy pepperoni with extra cheese?”
He grinned. “I’m thinking you’re door number two.”
She shrugged and glanced up at him. “I can be number one.”
He looked over her head. The balding guy behind the counter flipped a three-inch long pencil from behind his ear. “Pepperoni pie with extra cheese and…garlic knots?”
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Coke?”
“Beer?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Coke.”
He couldn’t fault her there. He liked a beer here and there, but had never been the big drinker in the group. He’d seen enough of what a twelve-pack could do to a person to want that rotgut most of the time. Occasionally, he did enjoy a microbrew when Michael and Ryan dragged him to a pub, but it wasn’t his vice. “Two Cokes it is.”
The guy ripped a sheet off his pad and shoved it through the window. He one-finger punched his way around an ancient register and barked out a total.
Lauren shoved her hand into the pocket of her tight pants.
“I got it.”
“I can pay.”
“I brought you.” He dug out his wallet. “I pay.”
“All right.” She shrugged and twirled her way down the slim aisle between the tables and took the one at the back.
“I guess we’re sitting there.”
The guy behind the counter grunted. “Trouble.”
“The fun ones always are.”
A lopsided grin split his weathered face showing a twisted eyetooth. “I married mine.”
West glanced over his shoulder as Lauren shimmied into the booth. “Bit early for that line of thinking.”
Gus—as his stitched shirt read—stuck his pencil back behind his ear. “You say so. We’ll bring it out.” He snapped two Coke bottles on the Formica. “Enjoy.”
West turned with the bottles in his hands. Lauren was sitting in the booth, her legs across the bench, her feet hanging off the end. He sat on the opposite side of the booth and set her Coke in front of her.
They’d gone from a liplock to this?
He wasn’t sure what to think about any of it. And suddenly, she looked impossibly young. She wouldn’t be the first fan to dress older than she was. It would explain a lot of her reactions so far.
West drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re not sixteen, right?”
“What? Where you get that idea?”
“Answer the question first.”
“I did. I’m definitely not sixteen.”
