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“And have this continue? I’d rather take the lunch and get it over with.”
I smile to myself. She’s cute when she’s annoyed.
Bridget
We don’t speak the entire walk to the café, and it suits me just fine. I have no idea why I agreed to this. Because you’re curious. And attracted to him. Let’s not forget that. Whenever he’s near, my body buzzes. I sneak a peek at him. He’s…whistling?
“This it?” he asks, stopping at the corner café. I nod, and he steps forward, holding the door open. I walk in and examine the bulletin board, seeing if anyone has put any new jobs up since the last time I ate here.
“Looking to change jobs?” he asks as I finish scanning the normal listings. “Don’t you already have two? You work a lot already.”
I have no plans of answering that question. “Hello.” I wave at the girl pushing up her fake boobs. “We’d like a table please.”
She flutters her eyelashes and smiles. “Sure. How many?” Her eyes never leave Chase’s.
“Just two. It’s a pity lunch. His boyfriend just broke up with him.” Disappointment spreads across her snooty face. I lean in closer. “About that table…?”
Sighing, she picks up her dry erase marker and crosses off a square on her seating chart. “Shame. Follow me.” She drops the menus on the table and tells us to enjoy our meal. When we’re both seated, the awkwardness settles in. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Hey, guys, I’ll be back to take your orders.” A waitress drops off two waters. I grab my glass as a distraction and take a sip.
“So, what’s good here? I’m not really feeling like dick today.” Chase pretends to scan the menu as I spit my water right back out.
“Oh god.” I cover my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I—” Why did I say that? I grab my napkin and hand it to him so he can wipe his face.
“No problem. In some cultures, being spit on is a sign of respect.”
“It is?”
“No idea. So, how are you? What’s your favorite color? Food? Do you like pets?” His fingers tap against the table in a nervous rhythm.
God, he’s strange, unpredictable, and extremely cute when he’s nervous. “What’s up with the weird ice-breaker questions?”
He takes a sip of his own water. “I don’t want to cross any lines or scare you off. Figure if I stick to the basics, you won’t run and might even possibly consider a second date—”
“This isn’t a date.”
“Oh, right. Hell no. Good call. Please don’t go running and telling your friends this was a date. Anywho, what’s good here? Please don’t say the tuna melt.” He lifts the menu to hide the twitch in his lips.
“Actually, I hate tuna, so I wouldn’t know. If you’re willing to be adventurous, try the muffuletta sandwich. It may be too many calories for you.”
He pulls the menu down. “Why would it be too many calories?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I assume someone like you watches their calories. All muscle, no fat kind of guy. You probably run a gym or something.” A gym? Really, Bridget?
His lips curl into a smug smile. I just gave him a compliment—and he knows it. Shoot.
“Thanks for noticing.” He flexes, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Please stop.”
His arms go down immediately. “Shit, sorry. Yeah, no gym. I actually work in construction, so I do a lot of heavy lifting.”
Explains the perfectly tanned skin. The waitress returns, her notepad and pen ready. “What can I get you two?”
Chase nods for me to go first. “I’ll have the chicken salad, please.”
“And for you, darlin’?” she asks, scribbling down my order.
“I’ll have the muffuletta sandwich.” He looks up at me and winks. My chest tightens. A shiver runs down my spine. It was just a wink, Bridget. Calm down.
“Got it. It’ll be right up.” She walks off, and I’m half tempted to grab her and beg her to sit with us so it doesn’t feel so awkward. Like a date. If I’m honest, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if it was. I’d have to be crazy to turn down someone who looks like that. Plus, he’s actually funny and not horrible to be around. I’m certifiable if I add in how amazing he is in bed. Not that I have any experience, but if I never have sex again, I’d still be fulfilled.
“I’m not going to bite, you know. You can stop looking so worried.” I snap out of my haze. He seems to have kicked his nervousness, looking more content than I feel. I need to pull it together.
“Well, now that we got that out of the way, I can finally relax.” My lame reply cuts the tension, and we both share in a silly laugh. Feeling less nervous, I take the lead. “How did you find me?”
