Page 62 of With a Grain of Salt

“Taking lunch to a friend,” I tell her, which I realize was the very last thing I should’ve said when her eyes light up as she hands me back my change.

“Tell Claire I said hello.”

I don’t confirm her suspicions before leaving.

I’m so excited to see her when I get to the bar, I get halfway to the front door before realizing I left the food.

The bar is silent, but I expected it to be with her here alone. Instead of going to look for her, I set the food up on the table, wishing I would’ve had a little more forethought and grabbed some flowers or something. There’s literally nothing in the bar I could use for a centerpiece on the table other than a stack of cardboard bar coasters. Even as proud as I am to have The Hairy Frog logo on them, they don’t exactly scream romance.

After the table is as good as I can make it with my limited resources, I go to find her, surprised that she’s legitimately working. I really thought I’d find her much the same way I did Barrett nearly a week ago. She’s so tired all the time, I figured she’d take the opportunity to grab a nap or something.

“You’re not sleeping,” I say, rushing out a quick apology when she jolts. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What kind of people are you used to hiring that you’d think I’d be sleeping?” she asks, pausing to look at me with a handful of receipts.

I know better than to tell a woman that she always looks tired, so I shrug instead.

I reconsider when she drops her eyes and gets back to work. I love it when she’s fired up and pissed. I don’t think I’ll do it now just to get turned on because, honestly, I can just watch her work and that happens naturally.

“Did you need something?” she asks after a few minutes of me standing in the doorway.

“Lunch,” I tell her, wondering if I’m going to get a little of that fiery attitude of hers when she looks up from her work to glare at me.

“I’m not here to cater to you, Walker.”

“No,” I rush out. “I brought the two of us lunch. Join me?”

Instead of looking the least amount impressed, she just continues to stare at me.

“Have you eaten already?”

“I haven’t,” she says after a long pause.

I hold my hand out to her. “Join me?”

She places the paperwork in her hands back on the desk. Although she walks toward me, she doesn’t lift her hand to put it in mine. I drop mine and then walk back out into the bar, beginning to feel a little awkward. I feel like I’m being put on the spot, and I grow more self-conscious with every step we take.

“What is all this about?” she asks when she sees the lunch spread on the table.

“It’s a date,” I say before I lose the courage.

I’ve seen this woman completely naked. I’ve had the privilege of putting my mouth on nearly every inch of her skin, but this makes me nervous.

“Walker,” she says on an exasperated sigh that’s loud enough to almost hurt my feelings. “I don’t date.”

“Weird,” I tell her as I press my palm to her back and urge her to take a seat at the table.

“How is that weird?”

“Because we’re dating.”

She huffs a laugh as if I’ve told a joke, but she draws it short when I frown at her. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m very serious, Claire.”

“We slept together a couple of times. We aren’t dating.”

“It doesn’t work that way with me. Please eat,” I say, pointing to the BLT and chips on her plate.

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