“According to you and Linda, it’s not just a sandwich.”
“Look at you.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.
“What the hell, Sam?”
“I need proof of this moment. You’re already emotionally invested, and you haven’t even tasted it yet.” She grinned.
I lifted the sandwich to my mouth, took a bite, and froze.
“There it is.” Sam grinned, picking up the bottle of Ketchup.
I didn’t say a word. I just kept taking bites of my patty melt. I set the patty melt down and wiped my mouth and hands with a few napkins.
“Seriously, what is this?” I asked.
“It’s a patty melt.” She laughed.
“This is proof that rich people have been lied to their entire lives,” I said.
Linda was walking past our table with a coffee carafe and stopped. “What did you just say, Mr. Castile?”
“Listen, Linda. I’ve eaten in Michelin-starred restaurants all over the world.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“I’ve hired chefs to prepare seven-course tasting menus.”
“Sounds incredibly expensive, but okay,” she said.
“It was very expensive. But somehow, this $12 sandwich is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Don’t forget about Mr. Avila’s cinnamon rolls.” Sam grinned.
“That too.” I pointed at her.
“Margie made that patty melt,” Linda said.
“Well, you can tell Margie, she’s a genius.”
“Will do, Mr. Castile.” Linda smiled.
I picked up my sandwich and stared at Sam. “Tomorrow, I’m bringing my CFO and best friend, Finn, here for lunch.”
“What?” She laughed. “Now you sound like a lunatic.”
“No.” I wiggled my finger. “He needs to experience this.”
“I’m happy to have opened up a whole new world for you, Weston Castile.”
Chapter Eighteen
Samantha
The look on his face was like a kid on Christmas morning. Fuck. I was already falling for his rich ass and could feel my heart already breaking. I didn’t trust men right now. Trusting them was too exhausting, and I was already tired enough.
Linda walked over and set our bill on the table. Wes immediately grabbed it and handed Linda his credit card.
“You have to pay at the register, rich man,” she said.
