He was equally intuitive about what drinks I liked.
So it shouldn’t have surprised me that he’d read my mood and figured out the perfect meal to appease it. But how could anyone get used to that?
“Vera Quinn has her food truck parked downtown tonight. Foodie is all about the classic comfort food. Does that work?”
“I love that truck,” I told him, ignoring the way my misty eyes blurred.
He smiled, and I turned the radio up; we small-talked and mumbled lyrics for the rest of the ride. By the time he finally found parking down the street from Foodie, I had been able to shake off the last of my bad mood and misgivings about Will’s intentions.
“It’s kind of cold out,” Jonah said with the car idling. “Do you want me to order and bring it back?”
“I’ll be okay,” I assured him. “I’m tough.”
He didn’t argue, but he also didn’t look convinced. He shut his car off, zipped his jacket up, and said, “Okay, let’s go.”
We bolted out of his car and shuffle-ran down the block to the food truck. The bike shop behind it was aglow with lights and crammed with people. There must be an event tonight, and the food truck was there for it.
“Are you sure it’s open to the public?” I asked, my breath turning the air white, thanks to the cold. “Or is it here for some event?”
“I follow them on Insta,” Jonah said smoothly. “They said they’d be here tonight. Their specials are curry chicken potpies and shepherd’s pie with ground lamb.”
I started salivating immediately. “I’m going to get one of everything.”
He chuckled and then slowed as we approached the short line in front of the truck. People stood around waiting for food and to order, stomping their feet and rubbing their hands together to survive the cold. Durham certainly wasn’t the coldest place on earth, and we hardly got snow, but anything below sixty degrees felt icy to me.
Jonah’s phone pinged while we were standing there, and he pulled it out to check it. I watched his expression while he read the text, trying to interpret how his lips pressed together in a frown.
I didn’t try to even hide my nosiness most of the time. For as long as I could remember, I had been tagging along with Will, Charlie, and Jonah. If I didn’t demand to know what they were talking about, they’d never have included me in a single conversation. Especially when we were younger, but even nowadays too.
But when it came to texts and phone calls, I at least made a minimal effort to mind my own business.
Well, sometimes anyway.
“Is it Will?” I asked when he tucked his phone back into his pocket without replying.
He blinked, looking down at me as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Is what Will?”
I jutted my chin toward the general direction of his chest. My hands were preoccupied with being shoved into my pockets. “The text. I told him I wasn’t going to bring him back food, so he was pissed.”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t Will. It was one of my dating apps.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Oneof your dating apps?”
A sheepish grin twisted his lips. “I mean... whatever, you know what I mean. You’re the one who keeps sending me new accounts to sign up for.”
I took a step closer to him, trying to get him to block some of the wind. The line slowly moved, and I needed Jonah to shield me from the cold. Compared to the whipping wind and frigid air, his body was warm and cozy.
I stepped even closer to him, leaning my shoulder against his bicep. “Keep me warm,” I murmured.
He stretched out his arm, wrapping it around my back and pulling me into him. “We’re almost there.”
Tipping my head back to keep an eye on his expressions and mouth tilts, I said, “So are they working?”
He stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the food truck cashier. I knew he was being purposely vague when he asked, “Are what working?”
“The dating apps.”
He made that frowny face again. “I don’t know. Yes. But also no? There are girls... but I don’t know... it’s hard to find someone I have stuff in common with.”
