Page 7 of Dining for Love

Reid says, “What does it matter? You’re not waiting on me, right?”

I cross my arms and try hard not to yell. “I’m the cook, so yes. It matters.”

“Wait, really?”

My eyes narrow into slits. “What does that mean?”

“Sorry.” He holds his hands up. “I didn’t realize you were actually one of the cooks.”

“Oh, man.” Ox loses the battle and chortles.

“Actually?” I huff. “What doesthatmean?”

He shoots a helpless look at Ox, who’s shaking with silent laughter. “I…I don’t know. Sorry,” he repeats, looking properly chastened.

It makes him hotter. And that makes me even angrier. “Listen, the Dash Burger is a specific burger. With a fried egg and guacamole. Do you have something against fried eggs?”

“No.”

“Guacamole?”

“No, I?—”

“But you want a burger with tomato, lettuce, and onion,” I state. Honestly, I’d like to shut myself up at this point, but we’re way too far gone.

“Right.”

I wave the ticket at him. “Then why. Are. You. Ordering. The. Dash. Burger?”

Ox is practically melting into his side of the booth at this point.

Meanwhile, Officer Dimples lets out a defeated sigh. “I don’t like sesame seeds,” he mutters.

“You don’t like—wait.” I take a beat. “What?”

He straightens and clears his throat. “Sesame seeds. I hate the way they get caught in my teeth. The regular burger has a sesame seed bun and?—”

“The Dash Burger doesn’t,” I finish for him. Aren’t I a peach? My cheeks blaze with mortification. Of course. Ofcourse.I jerk my chin in a nod, and leave the table without another word.

And then I make the best damn burger possible. He’s going to be amazed at how delicious it is. He’ll never be able to eat another burger without comparing it to this one. For the rest of his life, I want this man thinking ofmyburger. It’ll serve him right.

Dad eyes me the whole time, because I may or may not be a little aggressive with my movements, but he remains quiet. When I’ve plated and dressed the burger, I decide I’ll be the one to take it out to him, along with Ox’s chicken salad and fruit plate.

To his credit, the man doesn’t so much as flinch when I show up. Instead, he smiles up at me, showing off those damn dimples. “Hi, Willa.”

“No sesame seed bun.” I slide the burger and fries onto the table.

I didn’t think it was possible, but the dimples get even deeper. “Thanks.”

Apparently I’m a sadist, because when I return to the counter, I watch him. He takes a bite, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Dammit.

“Willa.” Mom sidles up to me and waves her phone in my face. “Have I shown you the reviews of that new place up in Nashville? Looks like they’re angling for a James Beard award.”

I grit my teeth. “Nope, you haven’t.”

She points to the screen. “Look. Their menu sounds perfect for you. Even has some of the same items from your semester at?—”

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