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Luke takes two menus from the single ring holding them and passes one to me.
“Did you really want to go to some fancy French place right now?”
I laugh. He’s not wrong. “No. I think I prefer french fries right now.”
“Well, holy shit. Was that a joke? You feeling okay over there?”
Rolling my eyes, I offer Luke a sarcastic laugh. “Ha ha. Very funny. It’s been a bit of a rough day.”
He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his grip and squeezing lightly.
“I hear ya, darlin’.”
Luke’s skin is warm, and the way he’s holding my hand feels too good. I’m not supposed to be letting him this close.
Clearing my throat and pulling my hand back to look over the menu, I hold it between us.
“So, what’s good?”
I risk a glance over the top of the menu and immediately regret it. Luke is smirking at me, obviously very aware of my deflection.
He lets it go, though, and I am very glad for it.
“Well, what’s your speed? You a breakfast-for-dinner type of girl? Or more like craving a juicy burger?”
My stomach clenches as he mentions food, and it’s a combination of starving and nauseated.
I know I need to eat. My body knows I need to eat. But suddenly, food sounds disgusting.
Anxiety. Duh.
When I’ve had this problem in the past, I turned to a few staples to keep me fed.
“Well, fries, for sure. And um—” I turn the menu over to the other side, searching for the linchpin in the prevent-my-starvation plan “—ah, there. Fried pickles.”
Luke laughs, and I’m lost in the sound momentarily.
Jesus, Clara, it’s been a long day, but come on. You can’t be affected like this every damn time and from something as simple as a laugh.
“That is a lot of fried food, doc. You think that’s good for you?” Luke’s smile is downright dashing.
“Carbs, fat, salt, bit of sour. It’s the perfect thing to calm one's nerves.”
I smile, amused with myself, and Luke chuckles again.
“That your professional opinion?”
“It is.” I nod.
The waitress comes over at just that moment, and I see the name Doris displayed on her name tag.
Perfection. Couldn’t get any more kitschy ’50s diner if they tried.
“Hiya, folks. What can I get ya?”
I lied. It just did.
“Hey, Doris.” Luke smirks, laying an arm over the back of the booth. “We’ll have two baskets of fries, let’s make ’em truffle.”
