“Oh no, didn’t anyone tell you?” He leaned closer to me. “It’s illegal to order the same thing four times in a row in Tennessee. Some state law. There could be a warrant out for your arrest right now.”
I furrowed my brow. “What law is that?”
“A crime against food.” Straightening to his full height, a playful grin stretched across his face. “A whole menu right there in front of you, and you order the same thing. It should be against the law.”
A startled laugh escaped me, so loud it echoed off the portico. He was teasing me. Or, was this flirting?
Jace crossed his arms. “If it were me, I’d have the avocado toast with sweet corn and chilis. Or the cheese and butter biscuits. No wait, the twice-baked French toast. Please tell me next time you’ll eat the twice-baked French toast and report back. I need to eat vicariously through you.”
Watching him say this should be illegal. My cheeks warmed as I pictured him sitting across from me, intently watching my mouth as I take a slow bite of the French toast.
Forcing that image out of my mind, I answered, “I’ve never thought about that.”
And no, that wasn’t my voice sounding hoarse.
Nope.
Nope on a rope.
I held my valet ticket out to him, but he didn’t take it right away. Instead, he tilted his head, curiosity practically another color in his iridescent hazel eyes.
Stop noticing his eyes.
“You ever think about changing it up?”
I shuffled back a few steps, exhaling nervously at his question and held out the valet ticket more insistently.
He took the ticket with a smile and nod, then walked toward the parking lot. I glanced his way surreptitiously, noticing that he’d take a few moments to look up into the sky as he walked, his happy-go-lucky demeanor obvious to anyone watching him. What made him so carefree? What must it be like to feel that way?
Please let him be at least twenty-eight.
I fought the urge to both facepalm and laugh hysterically at the utterly absurd thought that popped into my head, I settled for giving my head a firm shake, as if I needed a physical jerk to clear it. Because I’d clearly lost my mind. First, it didn’t matter how old he was, he was still much too young for me. Second, my focus needed to be on my kids. Men were so far off my radar I’d have to take three airplanes, then portage just to find one.
At least real men, that is.
Fictional men were a different story. I couldn’t wait for the drive home, thirty blissful minutes of listening to my current book before reality sank back in.
I got out my phone to shoot a quick text to my best friend, Leah. Mrs. Simon wasn’t able to stay overnight at the house tonight while I was on call for my pediatric clinic, so Leah had very kindly offered to stay overnight instead. I was able to be at home when I was on call, only needing to keep my phone with me so I could answer any calls that came in from our remote nursing service. I had yet to get called into the hospital for an admission; still, I needed a backup caregiver at home to stay with my kids on the off chance I did get called into the hospital.
Polly: Still on for tonight at 7? I’m sorry again to have asked.
Leah: You need to stop apologizing. Oh no! I have to go to my friend’s house and enjoy a night without my kids in a house with an outside stone patio overlooking the mountains and home theater! Whatever shall I do?
Polly: I’ll make dinner.
Leah: Not necessary. I’m bringing wine.
Polly: I’m on call.
Leah: It’s not for you.
I huffed out a laugh. Leah had been my friend since the second grade, when her family moved to town. We remained close when I’d been forced to attend Eagleton after elementary school. After I moved away for college, we’d drifted apart, only seeing each other on the few occasions I’d come back for the judge’s campaign events. We had our first kids around the same time and reconnected over social media, sending funny videos which progressed to text messages and weekly check-ins. Since my divorce, she was the only true friend I had left.
A few minutes later, my car appeared, Jace in the driver’s seat.
He held the door open for me. “Thank you,” I said as I started to get into the car. On a whim, I suddenly turned and faced him, adding, “Jace.”
I’d never referred to him by name before; for some reason, today, it felt wrong not to use it.
