“Why?” Sam asked.
“Because…um…” Mach seemed to be thinking exceptionally hard.
“Yes, Mach, do tell?” Tanner seemed to be issuing a dare.
Mach didn’t bite. Instead, he said, slowly, “Because you arrived when the food finished cooking, and everyone is hungry.”
Sam worked in the elderly industry long enough to know when to call bullshit. She was calling that here.
“Sam and I are gonna slip out the front,” Tanner said, already starting that way.
“Nope,” Mach said, surprisingly loud for a guy trying to cool off his tongue. “Can’t let you leave, now that you’re here.”
Tanner gripped her hand harder. “You wanna stay or go, Sam?”
“I think I should meet your band.” Sam said, grinning at him. “Check out what it would take to be a Ten.” She nudged him with her hip.
Tanner cut a clear warning glance to Mach and pressed the pad of his thumb against his lips. “Okay.”
“You wanna handle this”—Mach gestured to the oven and the pan—“while I go outside and let ‘em know?”
“Sure.” Tanner dropped Sam’s hand to skirt the edge of the counter.
Sam immediately missed the connection of his touch. Which was odd, since this was only a first date.
Mach jogged to the door and down to the pool. Tanner pulled open the oven and slid out a tray of mozzarella sticks.
Sam’s reality sort of closed into a pinprick in front of her. Which was unnecessary. These were only mozzarella sticks. They weren’t some kind of sign or some kind of omen or a message from the past. They weren’t a nod that the Dimefront guys knew who she was or anything. Only that they had great taste in appetizer choices.
It’s not like she had to sing about them, or anything.
So why was she having a hard time breathing?
Scratch that. Breathing was going fine. The oxygen merely didn’t seem to make it all the way to her brain.
She sat—sort of fell—to one of the bar stools, gasping for air like a freaking grouper tossed on the pier. Tanner was saying something to her, but she was too focused on herself to really hear him.
No. She shook her head. Then she pushed back the wave of whatever-the-hell this was going on inside her.
Enough.
She blew out a breath. Sometimes mozzarella sticks were simply cheese with breading, and nothing more.
Chapter Eight
TANNER
Sam went pale,then turned a greenish-gray. He was definitely not an expert on first dates, but that wasn’t supposed to happen.
Tanner set the tray of food off to the side without even coming close to burning himself.
Something about the way everything shifted when he pulled out the tray didn’t make sense. She’d been good with the first tray. Seemed happy to dive in.
What the hell was it about this one? He looked at the unimpressive cheese logs Mach had dumped on the sheet without laying them out first, so they’d cook evenly.
Tanner wasn’t an ace in the kitchen, but he knew to dothat.
He hustled to Sam, kneeling a little, so they were face to face. He didn’t even have to try to pretend to be Linx as he said, “You okay?”
