Page 14 of Forsaken Oath

“So,” I drawl.

He leans back in the booth, arms crossed over his chest as he watches me, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "So," he echoes, drawing out the word.

I tilt my head to the side, considering him. "You still haven't told me your name."

His smirk widens into a full-blown grin, dimples flashing. “You haven’t told me yours either.”

“Is this what we’re doing now? Sharing a meal without sharing our names?”

“Safer that way, don’t you think? That way, when you tell me all your secrets tonight, you won’t be worried I’m gonna run to the press with them.”

“The press?” I huff out a laugh. “What are you . . . eighty?”

He folds his arms across his chest and flashes me a grin. “Ask me to tell you a secret.”

I lift my shoulders and let them drop, amusement bubbling inside me like popping candy. “Alright, tell me a secret.”

He drops his forearms to the table and leans forward. “I’m pretty sure my late grandma, Nana Jo, ran our town’s gossip site. She’d always say she’d hear somethinghot off the press, but when she passed, my sister found this diary of hers. She recorded the most random shit in there. Like someone was seen canoodling with someone else’s boyfriend, the blue ribbon winner stole her recipe. Or my personal favorite: the mailman was stopping at Nancy Gibraldi’s house, but he was spending more time in her backyard than delivering the mail.”

He’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, making him look carefree. It’s infectious, and I don’t even realize I’m laughing along with him until the waitress sets down seven plates of pie on the table between us.

“Here y’all go. Let me know if you need anything else,” she says, her voice bright and bubbly.

“Thank you. This looks delicious.” I nod at her and unravel my flatware. “I’m sorry about your grandma, by the way.”

He nods, his amusement fading into something more solemn. “Thanks. It was a couple of years ago now.”

“Still. That kind of grief doesn’t just go away. We just learn to live with it. That’s why it feels easier with time.”

“Yeah. I never thought of it like that.”

My dinner date moves a few plates around, rearranging them so they’re centered in the middle, sort of in a line. Pumpkin, key lime, banana cream, strawberry rhubarb, blueberry, chocolate cream, and apple. I’m going to do my best to take a bite of each of them, but I don’t think I can stomach too much. Not after the food and the excitement of earlier.

“Start on one end and work our way to the other?” he asks, pointing his fork at a piece of pumpkin pie.

“Sure. Should we rate them too?”

“Like one of those shows on the Food Network?”

I gesture to him with my fork and grin. “Exactly. I love those shows. Especially the baking ones.”

“I still miss Sandy,” he says, getting a forkful of pumpkin pie.

My hand pauses mid-air, my heart skipping a beat. “You watchThe Great British Bake Off?”

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t entirely by choice. My sister has her own bakery, and she’d turn it on every chance she could get. I’d pretend to be annoyed, but I secretly loved that show.” He leans in close, like he’s sharing another secret with me. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I promise.

7

BEAU

“So, what’s your story?”she asks, leaning in and cutting into the key lime pie. “You come here often, buy up all the dessert to impress random girls after a storm?”

I laugh, my gaze snagging on the way her lips wrap around the tines of the fork. “Only during tornadoes, remember?” I stab my fork into the key lime pie, just to keep my hands busy. “Nah, I’m just here on a little business, passing through.”

“Oh?” she sits up a little straighter. “That’s so weird. Me too.”

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