He crossed his arms… those thick, fuzzy, wonderfully tattooed arms. I squirmed in my seat, trying to hide the rising problem in my jeans. He had the sleeves rolled up, highlighting his biceps. I forced myself to chew.
“I’m from just outside Boston.”
“Do you pahk the cah in the Havahd yard?”
Amanda. I wanted to strangle her for a different reason. I chewed faster so I could jump into the conversation before she made us look like country bumpkins.
“Yah, can’t get there from here.” He shot back. “Can we discuss Moxie?”
Amanda laughed. “Don’t tell my gran. She prefers it over coffee.”
He reached forward, extending his hand. “Simon Peterson.”
How were we going to play this? Do I act like we’re strangers? Friends? Two grown men who have touched penises in the back of the mill?
She gave it a quick shake. “Amanda Kahl.”
He turned to me. Strangers. Good, I knew how to handle this one. If I had known he worked across the park from me, maybe I wouldn’t have been so quick to jump him. When he shook my hand, I knew that was a lie. I nearly threw myself at him despite our audience.
“Jason Cowan.”
“Oh, Jason!” I recognized the sound of Amanda havinga bright idea. “You know how we’ve been trying to get food vendors for the convention? What if Simon did it?”
“Uh…” This was getting awkward. “We still have to call?—”
“Why bother with them? We have a chef in the house.” She turned to Simon. “Jason is putting together a comic book convention.”
“Is that right? I’ve never been to one before.” When he looked in my direction, it was my face turning red. It was one thing to talk about comics with strangers, but after our fifteen minutes of raunchy fun, my insecurities rose to the surface.
“The whole town is getting involved. He’s modest about it.” She shot me a judging glare. “It’s going to be bigger than Flannel Fest. But we need some food vendors.”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Oh, no worries,” I said. “We don’t want to put you out.”
Amanda had other plans. “It doesn’t have to be fancy. But we can’t have Frank’s be the only vendor.”
“He said no.” I gave her a kick under the table.
Amanda didn’t understand the word. “Small bite-sized?—”
“Canapés.”
We both raised our eyebrows in confusion.
“Like hors d'oeuvres.”
“Oh,” we both said. She continued her nudging. “It’d be a great way to advertise Bistro on Maine.” His face softenedat the idea. “You’re already planning the menu, aren’t you?”
He laughed. God, the way his whole body shook when he laughed… I had to remind myself to blink. If Amanda wasn’t knee-deep in her manipulations, she’d have caught my awkward staring.
He moved behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders. I fought the urge to rub the side of my face against his arm. “Alright, consider me in.” His grip tightened, and I melted in my seat. Amanda waggled her eyebrows in our direction. If she only knew.
“Thanks, Simon.” My voice squeaked.
“First, I master your marketing, and now I secure catering. I’m on fire. Jason can give you the details. You two will get along great.”
He patted my shoulder. “I’m sure we will.”
