Page 13 of Dining for Love

I scoff. “I am a southern woman, Reid. Of course I like Little Debbie.”

He smiles again, much broader this time, but thank God not enough to make one of those illegal dimples appear. “Oatmeal Cream Pie?”

I nod and answer, “Roll Tide,” referencing the Alabama football coach who was known to eat at least one of them a day.

He blanches. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Think carefully before you answer this question: Where did you go to school?”

He smirks.Smirks!“Florida.”

I swear on a stack of Little Debbies, I almost throw up in my mouth. “As in...the Gators?” I choke out.

He folds his arms over his chest, the move serving only to bring my attention to his incredibly defined forearms. Which, I’djust like to say, I didn’t even know could be a thing. Since when do forearms distract me? “Yes, as in the Gators.”

I grimace, but inwardly I’m practically doing jumping jacks.Finally, I’ve found a flaw in this man. “I’m not sure we can be friends, Reid.”

He holds up the snack. “But I have Little Debbie.”

I grin, unable to help myself. “Give it here and I’ll reconsider.”

Something like surprise flits across his face before he tosses it to me and I catch it, despite my shakiness. I unwrap it and take a bite, glad for the sugar that immediately hits my bloodstream. “Thanks,” I mutter around a mouthful of sugary deliciousness.

“Anytime,” he answers.

He’s quiet while I snarf the snack, but to be fair, it’s not like that takes a long time. I chug a few sips of the Coke and start to feel better.

“Color’s coming back,” he observes, pulling out the chair across from me and studying me the way a doctor would a patient.

“Sorry about that.” I swallow the last of the delicious goodie and pull out my phone. “I should text Goldie.”

He nods, and I send a message telling her what’s happened.

Goldie

Are you okay?

I’m fine.

I don’t tell her how embarrassed I am.

Goldie

Still coming?

I look up at Reid, then back to my phone.

Still coming.

Reid keeps his hand at the small of my back as we walk to his car, and I have to force myself not to swoon at the move. First, he scoops me into his arms and carries me inside his house, and now he’s guiding me to his truck. Which doesn’t really match with the rest of him, if I’m being honest.

He gets into the cab’s driver seat and starts the truck up.

“Is this new?” I ask.

“The truck?”

I nod. “It doesn’t have that new car smell, but you don’t look like a Ford 250 kind of guy, I’ve gotta be honest.”

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