Page 25 of Love Like Lightning

“I like a booth.” Darting a look over my shoulder, he nods before he steers me toward the jukebox.

He stops us a few booths down from the jukebox and slides into the booth after shedding his jacket. Grabbing a menu, he starts looking casually through it while I just stand there for a moment, watching him.

A deep, foreboding feeling sits heavy in my chest. There’s a very real chance that by sitting down and sharing this meal with him, I might be completely screwing myself over.

I just have a sneaking feeling that pretending he doesn’t exist and pretending I don’t want to sleep with him again after this isn’t going to be the easiest part of my stay here in Ever Lake.

Can I walk away? Somehow avoid him for the next few weeks?

No.

The answer flies to the forefront of my consciousness before I can even fully form the question in my mind.

Obviously, we won’t be picking up where we left off; that’s out of the question. But I have to be able to be friendly with him. I can’t just lock myself in my room at the B&B and never venture out into town. As fun as that sounds.

Yes, because being friendly with him would kill you?

It might.

Resolving to have this one meal with him and then keep him at arm's length, I slide into the booth across from him. I unzip my coat and let it fall off of my shoulders and settle behind my back.

I grab a menu at the same time Henry puts his down. “You know what you’re having?” I ask, letting my eyes skim the dozens of options on the menu.

Then I remember why it was so difficult to eat here.

Everything looks good.

“The special.” His response is immediate, as if there was never a question as to what he was going to order.

“What exactly is this special?” I turn over the menu, trying to find where he saw it with no luck.

“Ah, it’s a Hank special. He’s not in the kitchen as much now that he owns the place, but when he is, his special is on the menu.” He clearly notices me trying to find it on the menu.

“So it’s like a super-secret Ever Lake local thing?”

“Yeah, kinda. Hank’s from Rochester, New York, and it’s inspired by a dish from out there. But he did name it partially after me since I love it so much.”

“Really? Sounds like you’re a regular town celebrity with your personalized diner special.”

A hint of pink colors his cheeks, and he tries not to smile but can’t help it in the end. And of course when he smiles, so do I. If this were a date, which it a million percent is not, this would be a great start to it.

There’s that familiar fluttery feeling low in my stomach, something between excitement and nerves. It feels nice. And I can’t help but think how much it shouldn’t.

“So, what is it exactly?” I lean forward over my menu and prop my chin onto my hand.

“It’s basically a catch-all meal. In Rochester, it’s called a garbage plate. Wait, hear me out before you make that face.” He holds up a hand, noting the small grimace that must be curling my lip. “I get it with a cheeseburger, but you can get it with other meats. It comes with two sides. I get some Mac salad and French fries. Then it’s covered in some meat sauce, ketchup and mustard, some onions, and buffalo sauce. It comes with a slice of buttered bread. It looks disgusting, I’ll be honest. But it’s delicious.”

“Oh, that does sound good.”

“It’s great. Hank’s the only one who makes them here at the diner. I’m probably the only one who orders them on a regular basis, but everyone knows that if they want one, they’ve gotta come on Thursdays.”

A waitress walks up to the table. The older woman, who has warm brown skin, a bright red painted smile, curly gray hair pulled up into a high ponytail on her head, grins at Henry.

“Hey there, Hammer. Are you here for your special?” Her soft southern twang seems out of place up here in the mountains, but she’s very clearly an Ever Lake local.

“Sure am. Thank you, Denise. This is my friend Gianna.” Henry glances at me with a suddenly tense smile.

Confused, I try to give him a reassuring smile, although I’m not sure what I’m reassuring him of.

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