Fine.He could deal with that.
Staying behind Petula, he guided them to an empty table and pulled out her chair, to which she raised a brow, but sat. Julian quickly took his own seat, hopefully before she got an eyeful of his crotch-buddy.
It took Julian a minute to settle, but he didn’t think she’d noticed his “extra interest”, and for that he was thankful.
Julian picked up two menus from where they were wedged between the catsup, vinegar, and salt and pepper shakers, handing her one, then looking at his own.
“What do you recommend?” he asked. She’d mentioned she’d been here before.
“I know this might sound a little odd, but you should try the Grape Pig.”
Julian looked down and found the item on his menu, reading it off. “Fried eggs, bacon, ham, melted cheese, hashbrowns, and…grape jelly, on an oversized English muffin?”
He’d never heard of such a thing, and that was saying a lot, because his mother was known for her experimentation in the kitchen.
“Uh, huh,” Petula answered without hesitation. “They make their own English muffins here, and they’re enormous.”
“But…grape jelly?” he reiterated. “Is that even a thing with eggs?”
“Trust me,” she said. “Once you’ve had it, you’ll never want anything else.”
“Okay.” He put his menu down. “But I’m not sure if it can beat a corn muffin,orbe as healthy.”
She made an adorable face, wrinkling up her nose. “Seriously? The way youhave your muffin prepared? Drowning in butter? There’s less fat inthissandwich, even with all the meat.”
Julian chuckled. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
The waitress came over and took their order, then Petula began talking, which Julian took as a good sign. She hadn’t initiated conversation before
“Last night I told my brother and his friends—who are also his employees and ex-army team—that I was meeting you here today.”
Julian looked around, but didn’t see anyone who seemed to be overly curious about them.
“If that’s the case, where are they?” he asked.
If Petula werehissister or good friend, he’d be covertly watching out for her on what amounted to an almost, first date.Especiallyhaving been trained by the military.
She snorted. “I told them if they dared show their faces, I’d never cook for them again. And they love it when I make dinner. Sooo…” she continued, “they all have this coming week off since they’re between jobs, and they’ll be at loose ends, which means my threat has more power right now.” She shrugged. “I must have scared them, because they’re not here.”
Julian wouldn’t burst her bubble. Sure, there were no busy-bodiesinthe café, but with his situational awareness, he’d seen a blue truck with blacked out windows do a slow, stealthy drive-by not once, but several times already. That told him thatsomeonewas being vigilant. The vehicle was rattier than what he imagined her brother owned, but who knew? The man was in construction, after all, and probably wasn’t too concerned with having pristine wheels.
He'd look into that, later.
“So how did the rest of your Friday go?” he asked, hoping to encourage her to share.
“Nuh, uh. I’d rather talk about yours.” She made a face.
Okay. He’d oblige, since something had her looking sour.
“Mine was pretty uneventful once I left you. I helped out at the shop, then made a trip to the nearby Y to find out what it would take to do some of our water instruction in their pool.”
A shiver passed over Petula, but it left so quickly, Julian wasn’t sure he’d even seen it.
“You don’t just go to the ocean for that?” she finally managed.
“Eventually, yes. But it’s easier to supervise students in an indoor space when they’re beginners, so for safety reasons, we need a venue like the Y before we move on.”
“And what did they say?”
