It’s the wrong angle to shake, more like when Aladdin reaches for Jasmine as he leads her onto his magic carpet. I accept the gesture, allowing him to close his fingers around mine as we walk to an empty table near the foosball.
There are two other couples sitting nearby, and I’m relieved to see women. So, they do exist around here.
Grant pulls my chair out, and I can’t remember the last time I saw anybody do that, much less do it for me.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he scoots me in.
He sits beside me and lifts a laminated card standing between the napkin dispenser and a bottle of ketchup that looks like it might have been continuously refilled for the better part of a decade.
He holds the sole menu between us. “I’ve tried everything other than the fried mushrooms.”
“What’s the best choice?”
“Plain burger. The wings will set you on fire.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
He grins at me. “Wouldn’t want to take that pretty mouth out of commission.”
Oh, boy. I ignore the comment and look at the burger options. Bacon. Double bacon. Double bacon with chili.
Plain burger it is.
“You want a beer?” Grant asks.
A beer. I haven’t had one of those in years. They probably don’t have Perrier-Jouët Belle Époque Brut.
Not that I’d ask for that if they did. That’s a Hollywood order for someone like Zachery. “Sure.”
“I’m a Bud man, but I get it if you want something lighter.”
Lighter than Budweiser? Now he’s annoyed me. “I can handle my beer.”
He grins. “Whatever you say, little lady.”
I channel my inner peace not to get up and leave right then.
It’s practice. I’m getting the bad pancakes out of the way, heating the grill just right for the perfect one.
A woman in all black other than a green apron pushes through a door in the back wall. She’s got a beehive like it’s 1966 even though she can’t be over forty.
She looks me over. “Huh, G-spot, you weren’t lying. You do have a date.”
“I told you,” Grant says.
I have no idea what this exchange might mean about Grant’s romantic history, but I say, “I’m Kelsey.”
“Becca,” the woman says, pulling a pen out of her hair. “What’s your poison, and trust me, it’s all poison here.”
“I’ll have a Bud,” Grant says.
I glance at the taps on the wall behind the bar. “Guinness Stout.”
“Stout,” Becca says. “You got yourself a real corker, Grant.” She writes the beers on her pad. “You want food or are you just drinking?”
“It’s a proper date,” Grant says. “I’m getting a double-bacon chili burger. No onions.” He grins at me like he’s thought of everything.
“And for the lady?”