Mack’s eyes didn’t stray from hers. He didn’t glance at his menu or anyone else in the room. Instead, he tilted his head, and a small smile touched his lips.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to order something? Because if not, you really shouldn’t be here. This job is the only thing that’s helping me pay for Bridger’s food and clothes.” While she said it all with a sickeningly sweet smile, the words didn’t lose their power.
Mack’s smile softened to something like admiration rather than flirting. "I’m surprised they don’t askyouto leave—you make everyone else look bad."
She couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a line or if he was genuinely complimenting her. Lacey chose not to dwell too much on it and gestured toward the menu. “Please, Mack. Either order something, or say what you’re going to say and head out. I need the table.”
His fingers wrapped around the menu, and he lifted it. “What is your favorite thing that they serve here?”
Lacey shrugged. “I really like the battered onion. The sauce is to die for. Sometimes the waitresses pitch in and get one to share.”
“I’ll get two of those to start.”
Her brows creased, then she sighed with a shake of her head. “Whatever. I’ll put it in.” Before she could escape him, his hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her back. She glanced at where he touched her, his warmth searing into her skin in the most delicious way. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have those strong, calloused fingers grazing her cheek.
Mack cleared his throat, forcing her to meet his gaze. “When do you get your break?”
“Break?” she murmured.
He nodded. “By my count, you’ve already been here a couple hours. When’s your break?”
“In about thirty minutes, why?” Suddenly, she knew the answer to that question before he said anything. “Mack—” she murmured, but he cut her off.
“It’s not a date.”
She lifted a brow. “Yeah. And you expect me to believe that.”
“Oh, I know you won’t believe it.” His brows furrowed, and his thumb traced a circle on the inside of her wrist. “I’d just like to have some company. Perhaps you’d be willing to humor me.”
One deep-fried onionwas half-eaten while the second sat in the server’s area for her co-workers to enjoy when she placed a sirloin and a country-fried chicken dish on the table.
Mack stared up at her expectantly, then down at his watch. “By my count, your break starts in one minute. Have you decided?”
Lacey stood at the edge of the table, only glancing toward the kitchen once before sliding down into the bench across from Mack. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t been able to pick at the onion that Mack had purchased to share as her tables had kept her busy.
“And what kind of conversation were you expecting to have? Because I’m not going to argue about why I’m not going to date you.” Her defenses were weak. He could probably sense it. She didn’t like the idea of him seeing through her, and the more time she spent in his presence gave him exactly that.
Mack gestured to the meals. “Okay. Now, I’m happy to have half of each, but I don’t know if you’re one of those people who hates germs. So, if you don’t like that idea, you pick one.”
“What?” She stilled, staring at the table full of food. It was all too much for him to eat, but she’d thought he was just trying to get her out to his table more often than she was with the college guys a few feet away. “I’m not eating that.”
“It’s your break, isn’t it? Aren’t you allowed to eat something?”
“Well, yeah… but you bought?—”
“Sirloin or chicken?” He frowned. “Please don’t tell me you only eat salads.”
“Mack,” she snapped in a whisper, “I’m not going on a date?—”
“It’sfood. No harm in eating.”
She studied the food, hating the way her stomach betrayed her when it gurgled. “Chicken,” she conceded.
“Chicken it is,” Mack murmured, pushing the plate toward her.
Lacey picked up the fork and knife and took a bite. A moan slipped between her lips. It didn’t matter how many shifts she worked, she didn’t get to eat here often. She simply didn’t have the money to splurge.
“So, talk,” he said after a swallow.
