Little Luke nods.
“I drew the whole thing,” I tell him proudly. “Look here.” I point to a tiny squiggle in the lower right corner of the menu. “That’s my name. Grace Bianchi.”
Luke’s wide eyes would be adorable, but the way his mouth drops as though I just told him I could fly makes me positively glow.
“No way.” He grabs the menu and looks at every piece of food and every character I’ve made. “You drew this?”
I nod proudly. “My brother asked me to design the kids’ menu, so that’s what I did. Take a look.”
Ryder holds one end of the menu and reads the food choices out loud to Luke. “Cora,” he says. “They have grilled cheese. Do you want grilled cheese or pasta?”
“Grilled cheese,” she says without looking up. Her little head is bent over, and she’s dutifully coloring the eyes on Mr. Mostaccioli red.
“I respect your bold colors,” I tell her, tapping my finger on the menu.
Just then, a different college-aged kid comes by with two tall plastic glasses of ice water for Ryder and me.
“Hi, Grace,” he says. “Can I bring drinks for the kids?”
“Do you have anything kid-safe?” Ryder asks. “I left my little one’s sippy cup in the car.”
“Dad, it’s not a sippy cup. Cora isn’t a baby.” Luke sounds annoyed in a very protective older brother way. He reminds me of Franco when we were young, and it melts away a layer of ice I hadn’t even realized was frozen around my heart.
“Right. Sorry, buddy.” Ryder ruffles the boy’s hair and then orders organic apple juice pouches and one glass of water for the kids to share.
“I know what I’m having,” I say, borrowing a crayon from Cora. “Do you want a recommendation?”
Ryder nods. “If it’s good enough for the sister of the chef, yeah. Please.”
I flip open the adult menu and point. “The wood-fired pizzas are the best you’ll ever eat.” I bring my fingertips together and blow a kiss. “Mmmm. So good. But my favorite dish is the ravioli.”
I’m looking Ryder right in the eyes when he says, “I trust you.”
There’s a moment when we stare each other down, and neither one of us looks away.
I hear Luke scribbling on his menu and Cora peeling the wrapper from a crayon she just snapped in half. But I can’t look away from Ryder. His beautiful eyes. His sexy grin. And the way he stares at me as though he very much likes what he sees.
He runs a hand through his hair and blinks. I think he’s going to look away, but he doesn’t. We stare and stare, my heartbeat thundering in my chest and a buzz of excitement competing with the hunger pangs in my belly.
He’s hot. He’s exactly my type. But he’s adad.
I give in and let him win, snapping my gaze away and focusing on my kiddie menu. I use the black crayon I borrowed from Cora to sketch two whimsical birds in flight.
Todd returns with the juice, and Ryder places the orders for the kids—grilled cheese for Cora and pasta with meatballs for Luke.
“I’ll have the ravioli,” Ryder says.
I glance up and give him an approving nod, but it’s like his eyes never left my face. His stare is intense, and there’s something real that passes between us. Something charged and exciting.
Nope, I think.Absolutely not.
“Make that two,” I tell Todd, then immediately busy myself drawing.
The man is hot, yes. But he’s got two kids. He’s new to Star Falls. Andbecausehe’s exactly the type I normally am attracted to, he’s bound to be a mess.
Even as I think the words, I am not sure I want to believe them. He’s an attentive dad. He seems to know his kids really well and to be a really hands-on father. Maybe he’s a total user or a cheat. I run through the list of every shitty thing every well-built, athletic, clean-cut guy I’ve ever dated has done. This Ryder guy… I mean, damn. Even his name is sexy.
He’s no different from any of them, I remind myself, pressing the wax even harder into the menu paper.
