As if on cue, my stomach growls, making us both chuckle. “No, I haven’t eaten yet. What’d you bring me?” I ask, stepping closer.
He grins. “Come on. You can head upstairs, and I’ll throw the trash in the dumpster.”
“I can do it,” I respond, not wanting him to think I’m not capable of getting two trash bags inside the trash receptacle outside.
“I know you can, but then these French fries will get cold. Might as well eat them while they’re still hot, because cold fries are nasty,” he says, and I realize it’s a losing battle. Not just because I’m hungry, but simply because he would never stand around and watch me take out the trash and hoist it up and into the dumpster. He’s not sexist. It’s chivalry, considerate.
Taking the food container, I head for the stairs, while he locks the back door for the bar and grabs the garbage bags, easily lifting them up and heading out the back door to discard them. My mouth waters as I catch a whiff of the contents of the container, and even though I only know of fries, I can’t wait to dive in.
Unlocking my apartment door, I slip inside, leaving the door open for Collin. I set the container on the counter and finallyopen the lid, practically drooling over the delicious smelling food. I grab the bottle of ketchup from the fridge and move to the small kitchenette table. Squirting a blob of ketchup onto the lid, I dive into the fries as the back door opens, closes, and footfalls echo up the stairs as Collin heads this way.
“Oh my God, where did you get this?” I ask, taking a huge bite of the juicy cheeseburger.
“The diner. They were closing, so I had to kinda take whatever I could talk them into.”
After swallowing, I state, “I should feel bad for them having to make food at closing, but this is amazing.”
“Yeah, I get their smashburger anytime it’s on the menu. I wasn’t sure your thoughts on grilled onions and pickles, but I figured they’d be easy enough to pick off if you don’t like them.”
“Pickles? The more the merrier, and I don’t mind onions,” I tell him between bites.
Collin washes his hands, then retrieves two bottles of water and joins me at the table, setting one in front of me.
“Is that where you guys ate?” I ask, coating a fry in ketchup and popping it into my mouth.
“Naw, we went to the Mexican restaurant. Charli has a love affair going with their queso.”
I nod. “Anytime you can eat cheese, especially in dip form, is a good day.”
He chuckles. “You sound just like her.”
After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence while I eat, I wipe my mouth off and ask the question I’ve been wondering. “So, the save…the person is gonna be okay?” Even though Charli told me what she heard, I want to hear it from him, if he’s willing to talk about it.
“He will be. He would have been if he would have had to jump, but he would have been in a lot worse shape.” He holds my gaze and asks, “I assume you heard about it from Charli?”
I nod and take another bite. “She explained why Camden and your friends came into the bar and did what they did. I was about ready to run over there with my broom and start whacking them.”
He barks out a laugh. “You were going to rescue me…with a broom?”
“Well, there were a bunch of them, and they were bigger than me. I’m not going to show up empty-handed. I’ve worked in this industry long enough to know words aren’t a very powerful weapon when you’re talking to drunks in a bar.”
He cracks a smile. “They weren’t drunk.”
“Not this time, but still. It didn’t happen too often at Burgers and Brew because it’s built a reputation of not dealing with bullshit. They have a no tolerance policy. You act up, you get thrown out. No exceptions. My uncle Tank has been in charge of security since they opened, and no one fucks with him.”
“I can see why,” he replies, just sitting there, watching me.
“Anyway, it did happen on occasion, but I never had to actually get between two guys about to come to blows. Women, however, were a different story.”
“Really?” he asks, so I tell him all about the chick fights that would occasionally break out, always over a man.
By the time my food is almost gone, I’m stuffed. “Want the rest?”
“No thank you,” he replies, his penetrating gaze locked on me. “You good?” he asks, grabbing my container and tossing it in the trash. “Get enough to eat?”
“Too much,” I confirm, realizing it wasn’t very ladylike to devour a burger and fries the way I did, yet not really caring. I was hungry, and I’m not about to starve just so I don’t eat in front of a guy.
Turning, he leans against the fridge and asks, “Tired?”
