I closed my eyes for a moment too long. Just long enough for my imagination to take off.
Bathin hummed, low in his chest, and I thought he might be bending toward me, his eyes searching my face, his breathing hitched as he angled his mouth toward mine.
Nope. All the nopes and then all the rest of the nopes. This was heart stuff. And I knew better than to fall for it.
I snapped my eyes open and quickly stepped backward. Away from him. Away from the things he did to me. The things he made me want.
He hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted that smug little smile. He watched me with a calm expression. Then he lifted his hand with the bag.
“This spot is perfect,” he said. “Let’s sit at the table. Such a beautiful view.”
He strolled toward the table, though it was more of a strut, then got busy setting up the sandwiches, the little bags of potato chips, and the cups that smelled like they were filled with hot coffee. Not what I would have chosen for lunch, but the aroma was rich and smelled wonderful mixed in with the cool sea breeze.
Suddenly a grilled club with extra peppers, chips, and a nice hot coffee sounded perfect.
“Sit,” Bathin invited. “I’ll even split my sandwich with tall pale and sickly over there.”
I glanced at Than, who looked adorably ridiculous taking meticulous notes from the neighbor guy in a tiny notebook that seemed even tinier in his hands.
“It’s a sandwich, Myra,” Bathin said gently. “Everyone has to eat.”
I finally gave in and took the bench opposite him. He’d sat so the beach was behind him, giving him the view of the street. That left me the view of the ocean, and he was right. It was beautiful today.
I unwrapped the sandwich paper, revealing two separately wrapped halves that were still warm enough to give off a little steam. It smelled heavenly, melted cheese and rich, salty meat, with the vinegar heat of the peppers.
I picked up half, moved the paper out of the way and took a big bite.
It was divine.
“Good?” Bathin asked, pointing his half sandwich toward mine.
“Good.”
He was quiet after that and so was I. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I polished off the first half and headed right into the second without a pause.
Than ambled over and folded down next to me at the table.
Bathin pushed his half sandwich over toward Than. “Half a Reuben.”
Than glanced at the wrapped food, studied Bathin who was just now finishing up his portion, glanced at me, and then fastidiously unwrapped the sandwich and took a tentative bite.
Bathin watched him with an amused expression. “I take it you’ve never had a Reuben before?”
“I have not.”
“Don’t like it?”
“I don’t have an opinion. It is hot flesh and spoiled cabbage?”
Bathin leaned on one elbow. “Pretty much. Also, there’s a sauce made of pickles and sugar and tomatoes, so it has that going for it.”
Than took another bite, placed just the fingertips of both hands on the edge of the table as he chewed. He stared out at the horizon, frowned, then took another bite and repeated the process.
“This is nice,” Bathin said, staring at Than but talking to me. “Just you, me, and Death, sitting at a table someone decided to quilt? I’m assuming this is quilting. How cozy.”
“Crochet,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look away from Than who was now halfway through the sandwich and still frowning between every bite as if he had no idea what he was eating or why.
