She studied him for a second before her eyes lit up, and she smirked.
“I know you. You work at the Grill on Main Street, don’t you?”
He pressed his lips together and nodded, then she took us to our table in the back of the restaurant.
The decor was sparse. If the outside wasn’t so festive, you’d have hardly realized it was Christmas season. There were no trees, no mistletoes, no garlands. Just a few cardboard Santas glued to the wall and a string of fairy lights around a couple of wooden beams.
Cole took a seat, and I followed suit as the blonde woman handed us a large menu and left without even taking our drinks order.
I took my coat off, and when I sat back down, I found Cole staring at the direction of the woman.
“You know her?” I asked.
“God no,” he puffed. “I’m just…”
He stopped and looked around him before he pursed his lips and frowned.
“What? What is it?”
“Nah. Nothing.” He shook his head.
I put my head on my hands and raised an eyebrow.
“Come on. Tell me what you’re thinking?”
He considered my question for a moment, then he let out a sigh and leaned on the table.
“Fine. I picked this place because we don’t really come here unless it’s for a drink or something. I thought not knowing the people here might make this”—he pointed between us two—“go smoother. But now I see why my parents are always bad-mouthing this place.”
He stopped, stared, then sat back in his chair and grimaced.
“Sorry. That was bitchy of me. I mean we’ve not even tried the food yet.”
I chuckled.
“Well, you do work in the business, so I’m sure you can pick on a lot more things a lot faster. No judgment from me.”
Cole licked his lip and smiled.
“Yeah. I guess. I mean even the decoration is bad. Those Santa heads are creepy.” He pointed at the cardboard Santa glued to the wall in uneven intervals, and I laughed.
“Yeah. My store is more festive, and I’m not even Christian,” I said.
“Your place is lovely,” Cole said.
Before I could thank him, a girl stopped by the table to take our drinks order, and Cole found the opportunity to take his coat off too.
He was wearing a dark green sweater that, despite its thickness, somehow hugged every muscle and curvature on his upper body and arms. A knot formed in my throat again, but it was from nervousness. It was from resisting to imagine just how sculpted he truly was under that top. It was hard to stop looking, but when he sat back down and turned to look at me, I managed to stop.
Stop being a creep, Samir.
I cleared my throat and noticed a round green necklace in a gold chain around his neck.
“That’s pretty,” I said and immediately regretted it.
Great work, Samir. I’m sure a big muscular guy wants to be called pretty.
“Thanks. Lilian gave it to me. Enzo’s mom.”
