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“How does a burger sound?”
“Like heaven,” I groan, my stomach grumbling again.
“I know a place on the other side of town that has the best burgers in Chicago.”
“If you say Jefferson’s I’m going to throw you out of this car,” I warn. “My sister swears by that place but I can’t justify paying twenty dollars for a freaking hamburger that’s not even that good.”
“Jefferson’s is overrated, for sure,” he agrees. “The place I’m talking about puts Jefferson’s to shame.”
He turns his attention to the driver, an older man with thinning hair and a small stud in his right earlobe. “Can you take us to 81stand Vine?”
“What’s at 81stand Vine?” I ask, not knowing the city well enough to have any idea where that even is.
“You’ll see.” He winks.
“Do you do that a lot?” I shift toward him, knotting my hands together in my lap.
“Do what?”
“Make people wait, leave them trying to guess your next move?”
He lets out a light laugh, thinking it over for a moment.
“You know, I can’t say that I do.”
“So just me then?” I huff playfully.
“Just you.” He leans over and squeezes my leg right above my knee, causing me to jump.
I swat at his hand, laughing.
“Lucky me.” I stick my tongue out at him.
“No, luckyme.” He snags my hand, looping his fingers through mine before relaxing back into the seat.
We spend the next ten minutes in silence. I keep my gaze out the window, watching the city pass through the tinted glass, but Abel’s eyes stay on me. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s looking at me. I can feel his gaze like a hot branding iron against my skin.
“We’re here,” Abel announces when the driver pulls up to the curb outside of what looks like a run-down diner.
“We are?” I question, leaning forward to look out of his window.
“Trust me, it may not look like much, but Jack’s has the best food in town.”
“Guess I’ll have to trust you.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Guess you will.” He does the same, pushing open the back door seconds before sliding out.
Instead of using my own door, I scoot across the long bench seat and exit directly behind Abel, catching a whiff of his masculine scent as I do. It’s a combination of cologne, laundry detergent, and something distinctly Abel. And it has quickly become my absolute favorite smell in the world.
After handing the driver some cash, Abel closes the door behind us and leads me to the run down establishment. There’s a neon sign readingJack’s Diner Open 24 Hoursacross the top, but only half the lights are working so it looks more likeJac iner pe 24 H us.
A bell above the door sounds as we enter, announcing our arrival and I let my eyes scan the small restaurant. The room is long and narrow and kind of reminds me of the shot gun style house my friend, Sabrina, lived in when we were kids. There are five booths on one side of the restaurant and five on the other, all of which are lined in a straight row along the windows.
Other than a younger couple in one booth and an older gentleman sitting at the bar area, the restaurant is completely vacant, which doesn’t surprise me considering it’s close to midnight on a random Tuesday in the middle of January.
“Come on.” Abel takes my hand and leads me to the booth in the far right hand corner, waiting until I take a seat before sliding in across from me.
I remove my coat and set it next to me, and when I look up at Abel I see he’s done the same. I can’t keep my eyes from sweeping across his broad shoulders before they finally make it back to his face.
