“We seat ourselves? Yep.”
He put his hand to the small of my back. “This table looks perfect.”
“Uh, sure.” Right in the middle of everything. I would’ve picked one of the back booths—more privacy. More intimacy. More chances to feel each other up. Because tonight only four other tables were occupied.
Ulysses pulled a chair out for me.
“Thank you, kind sir.” I grinned. “I don’t think anyone’s ever held a chair for me before.”
“Then you haven’t been dating the right sort of guys.” He sat next to me. “What’s good?”
I glanced around. “Their burgers aren’t bad. Not as good as Fifties’. Their onion rings are pretty good. Not as good as A&W’s, though. The pasta’s decent, although not—”
“Point made.” He laughed. “I’m here for a specific reason.”
“Uh, okay.” I opened the menu. “I’m probably going to have an order of chicken wings and an order of nachos. Want to share either or both?”
“Only if we get extra guacamole.”
“You can have mine.” I scrunched my nose. “And I’ll have extra sour cream.”
“Hey, Finn.” A smooth female voice had me looking up.
“Debra.” I grinned. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
She shrugged. “My degree in biology isn’t as useful as I’d thought it would be. I make decent tips here, so that’s something.”
“I promise to leave a large tip.” Ulysses cut me a glance before focusing on Debra. “I’ll have a cola.”
“I’ll take a root beer.” Some caffeine—but not too much.
“Sure. Y’all decided about food?”
“Double order of the bourbon barbecue chicken wings and a double order of the nachos—extra sour cream and extra guac.”
“You got it.” She snagged our menus and sauntered off.
Ulysses pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. “How long have you known Debra? She looks older than you.”
“Younger by three years and careful when you start commenting about women’s looks.” I glared. “She’s had a rough go of it.”
“Ah.” He gave me a sort of sheepish gaze, but his eyes danced with delight, probably at getting an unguarded comment out of me.
Then he looked at his phone again and started typing.
“Seriously? You bring me here for a date and you’re texting?” I rolled my eyes.
“You didn’t actually say how long you’ve known Debra.”
I scrunched my nose. “I think I’ve just sort of always known her. The way kids do in small towns.”
“You just reminded me that Mission City is bigger—”
“Than you think.” I chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. I—” I rubbed my forehead. “I can’t think like this.”
He placed his hand over mine. Well, the one not trying to coax a memory from the recesses of my mind. He squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. I just…want to get a sense of you.”
I squinted. “What does that have to do with how long I’ve known Debra? Oh, she was selling Girl Guide cookies at the front door of the grocery store and Mom handed me cash. I remember thinking this girl was kind of scrawny, but she stuck her hand out and introduced herself. Brash as could be. Then, when I spotted her around school, she’d always wave and call my name. Like we were friends or something.”
