I blink up into the prettiest of faces. “I thought we agreed chili was ano?”
She shrugs slim shoulders encased in a fitted black t-shirt. “It’s on the house. This way you’ll know for next time.”
I hover my nose above the bowl, inhaling. “Thanks.”
Everly whirls away, taking with her my chance to practice the lovely name aloud.Next time.
Two tables away, she about-faces, her gaze at a low angle. “Where on earth are your shoes?”
I track her line of sight to my wool socks. Oh, that. I wiggle my toes. “In the entrance. Boots were muddy.” I insert the spoon into the steaming cup and dunk the melting shreds of cheese into the mix.
“Well, I never…”
Peeking, I await the rest of the sentence. The spoon clinks to a halt against the side of the bowl. Our gazes do an encore of that slamming-into-each-other thing.
My heart thuds. Everly’s cheeks turn rosy.
“Never mind.” She twirls away, leaving me watching her lovely departure as long as I dare. A man’s got to be able to sleep at night, and thinking of Everly’s figure won’t help that.
Whew.
Blinking out of my stupor, I test the chili. Like my new favorite waitress, the spicy concoction is hot. In its case, both temp and spice-wise, so yeah, I’ll save a full bowl for the lunch hour. Antacids are stowed in my desk drawer.
Fanning my mouth, I scoot the bowl to the edge of the table and glance about. Um, water please?
As if the feisty spices burning a trail down my esophagus are visible, Everly zooms onto the scene with a glass of ice water. “I can see you already need this. Sorry, forgot earlier. Can I get you anything else? Tea? Coffee?”
Her cheeks shimmer with a rose-colored glow.
“Water’s great. Thanks.” I lift the glass and pour an icy stream down my throat.
Twitchy-lipped, she smirks. “Oh, and what dressing on that salad? Italian again?”
I swallow. “Italian would be great, thanks.”
It isn’t until she’s scurried off that it dawns on me she remembered my order from Tuesday.Don’t make too much of it, Knox.
While there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch Everly work, I’m starting at a deficit as it is. No need to add stalker to suspected dine-and-dasher.I tap open a news app and peruse headlines, peeking toward the kitchen every so often.
Minutes later, I press my back into the aged vinyl as Everly sets down a bowl of salad and plops a teeming plate of cheesy goodness between my fisted hands.
“Um, that’s a lot of casserole.” Like, almost more than the plate can contain.
“End of the day. I scraped the pan.”
“Would that be the same pan the rats licked?”
Her lower lip rolls in—and I’d like to coax it back out. Withmylips.
Whoopsie.Back on track, brain.
She folds her arms almost protectively, “I really ought not have made that joke.”
“As long as it was only a joke, we’re good.” I grin.
She chews her lip in a most distracting way. I imagine she doesn’t want to get in trouble with the boss.
I grip the spoon. Smile.
