He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, and that only set Lenore on high alert.
“Is that it? A birthday party and a baby and a funeral?”
“The ranch owners meeting,” he said with half a smile. “And of course, Thanksgiving.”
Lenore’s eyes dropped to the last Thursday of the month. She’d forgotten about Thanksgiving, mostly because she only had herself to celebrate with, and it was just another day that work needed to be done.
“I, ahem, wanted to warn you that when Zona brings the chickens later this week, she’s planning to ask you to come to Thanksgiving dinner at her house.”
Lenore blinked rapidly, her eyes getting larger with each one. “What?”
Brandon grinned at her. “I may or may not have told her that we had a date tonight, and she can’t stomach the thought of you celebrating Thanksgiving by yourself.”
“You’ll be there, right?” Lenore asked.
“Oh, I’m gonna be there,” Brandon said. “But I think Zona should come with a warning label. And I know she won’t…and I know she’s going to ask a lot of questions.”
Lenore swallowed, finding her mouth very dry. Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their drinks, and she quickly reached for a straw and unwrapped it. “Brandon, I haven’t been to anyone’s house for Thanksgiving in a long time.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t know how to cut down a tree with a chainsaw earlier today either.” He smiled at her, but the gesture dropped quickly. “I know it irritates you when I have to leave the homestead.”
“It does,” she said. That frustration, which had come so immediately, disappeared just as quickly. “But it doesn’t at the same time. We’re talking a national holiday and a funeral and a birthday party. It’s not that big of a deal.”
She did roll her neck now. “As my momma would say, I’ve got to learn how to chill.”
Brandon burst out laughing, and Lenore wasn’t sure if she should join in or glare at him until he stopped. She sort ofdid both—grinning while glaring—and that only made Brandon laugh harder.
“You should see your face right now,” he said between gasps of air and laughter.
The waitress reappeared. “Are you ready to put in your orders?”
Lenore hadn’t even looked at the menu yet, but Brandon placed one big palm over it. “I’ll order for both of us.”
“This should be good,” Lenore said, and she sank back in the booth and folded her arms.
Brandon held her gaze for a moment, his bravado dropping as he scrambled to pick up the menu. “This is either going to be really bad or really good,” he said. “I want the ribeye—medium.”
“Do you want French fries or mashed potatoes?” the waitress asked.
“Mashed,” he said. “And can I get an order of those sautéed mushrooms?”
“Sure thing.”
He studied the menu, a slight line creasing between his eyes. “And for the pretty lady over there…let’s see. I think we’re gonna go with the fettuccine Alfredo.”
The waitress looked at her, but Lenore kept her poker face in place.
“Do you want to add chicken?” she asked.
Lenore raised her eyebrows at Brandon, who did the exact same thing right back to her. “Yes,” he said, without looking away. “And she wants a side Caesar salad and a frozen root beer float.”
Lenore grinned at him, but he looked up to the waitress. “Just kidding. The float is for me.”
She smiled, but it was clear she didn’t care about Lenore and Brandon’s first date. “Is that all?”
“If I got it right,” Brandon said. “If not, I’ll wave you down and order something else.”
“Okay.” She turned and walked away. The saltiness in her tone made Lenore dissolve into giggles.
