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Chapter 18
Tyler
The barbecue joint is crowded, which isn’t a surprise on a Saturday night.I set the tray on the counter and give Jasmine’s hand a squeeze.“What would you like?”
She surveys the assorted meats.“Brisket please.”
The guy behind the counter hefts a large chunk of smoked meat onto the cutting board.“Moist or lean?”
“Moist.”She smiles up at me.“Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah.”When the guy looks at me, I tell him what I want.“Give us a pound of the moist and add two ribs.”Once meat is piled on the tray, I push it down the serving line.“Sides?”
She picks up a potato salad.
“The banana pudding is good.My friend Sutton says it’s the best he’s ever had, but if you’d rather, we can find a place to get ice cream or milkshakes later.”
“That sounds fun.”As she reaches for a bottled Big Red, her phone chirps.
“If you want to check that, I’ll wrap up here and meet you at a table.”I add a second bottle of Big Red to our tray because it’s a rare treat to find it in a bottle.
“Okay.I’ll get silverware and napkins.”After glancing at her phone, she taps it, then holds it to her ear.
The woman at the register rings up our food; then once she’s swiped my credit card, she pops the top off the bottles with her opener.“There you go, hun.Pickles and onions are next to the beans on the far wall.Enjoy your food.”
“Thanks.”
Focused on not tipping the bottles, I walk to the end of a table where Jasmine has snagged us spots across from each other.The long family-style picnic tables aren’t good for cuddling, but the food is worth the inconvenience.
“Everything okay?”I ease the tray onto the table.
Nodding, she tucks her phone away.“The wedding is a month away, and Daisy is questioning everything.Except Grayson.She’s sure about him.When her friend Bella isn’t available to talk her back from the brink of frustration, Daisy calls me.But we handled it.She’s just nervous about the chapel looking perfect.”
“Knowing Daisy, everything will be great.”
Jasmine’s gaze lands on the open bottles, and she starts nibbling that bottom lip.
I could kick myself for not thinking of this earlier.Jasmine always opens her own drinks except at the restaurant where the waitress brings glasses to the table.When we were at Sutton’s, she grabbed the drinks.At her place, she fills the lemonade glasses.And at that party, she opened the can.Why didn’t I bring the bottles to the table with the caps still on and let her take them back up to be opened?
After less than a second, she smiles and shifts the bottles off the tray.“Not many places have Big Red in a bottle.That’s the only time I have it.”
“It’s better that way for sure.”I slide onto the bench opposite her, grateful for the tiny bit of trust she’s showing in me.But I was in view the whole time, so maybe it’s only logic at play.
Gardening fills the conversation during dinner, and now I’m wanting to plant a garden.No, actually, I want to see her tuck seeds into the ground, cheer with her as they grow, and taste all the wonderful recipes she’s mentioned.
“If you like spaghetti, I have a wonderful recipe for sauce.It’s so easy and naturally sweet.”
“When can we plant tomatoes?”
“In July.”
“Then I need to hurry and get everything ready because now I’m craving your spaghetti.”
When we’ve had our fill, we wrap up the rest of the brisket and clear our spot at the table, setting trays and silverware in the bins and tossing the trash where it goes.
As we walk outside, she falls into step beside me.
I loop my pinky around hers.“How about we drop this off at your house, then find us some dessert?”
