Page 44 of Exposé

"There's always something. It's a matter of sifting through the bullshit to get to the meat of it."

Darrel appeared at our table with his arms full of our plates in the signature waiter staff hold—how they balanced everything, I'd never know.

"Thanks, Darrel," we said in unison and picked up our forks.

"Let me know if I can get you anything else." His lips pressed together in a forced smile, then left, stopping at another table on the way to the back.

Nate stuck a piece of bacon in his mouth and sighed. "I knew this place would be good."

"You've never been here?"

He shook his head and dipped into his eggs as I grabbed my toast. "No. I moved into town a couple of weeks ago from Chicago."

"And you've already made quite the impression with all the women at the apartment complex." I devoured my toast, dipping it into my yolks, then finished the egg off on top.

"Have I? I guess I only had my eye on one."

Our gazes collided, stimulating parts of my body that had grown cobwebs over the years.

"Is that so?" My chewing slowed as I focused on drowning myself in my coffee.

"Of course. I mean, after you practically ran into me, I had to see you again, so I followed you back home and picked up the maintenance job so I could see you again." His dimples deepened as he stared at me, my cup clattering on the table.

"What?" The muscles in my neck strained, my breath locked in my lungs as I stared across the table at him.

"I'm kidding." He chuckled and sat back in his seat. "That was a bad joke, wasn't it?"

I released my held breath. "In this day and age, given my profession. Yeah. You could say so."

He reached across the table and caressed the fleshy bit between my thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry. Those types of jokes are symptoms of the military, I'm afraid."

His hand warmed mine as his thumb moved across my sensitive flesh, sending sparks to my brain, erasing any stranger-danger alerts that may have come through.

"Let me make it up to you. There's a new festival coming. Let me take you there."

"That's pretty smooth, Nate."

He laughed. "I try. I do. So what do you say?"

"Oktoberfest?"

His hand slid away, and the drive to grab it had me forcing my hand into my lap, continuing where he'd left off.

He lifted his leather jacket and sifted through the pockets, then pulled out his black phone. "Um…" He flicked his thumb across the screen and turned it my way. "Yep, that’s the one."

"Oh."

Shit.

Liam just asked me out there.

"I'm not sure. I might be busy."

"There'll be beer…"

"You're speaking my language." My lips pulled up in a smirk, his earlier comment washing away.

"So, is that a yes?" He raised his brows.

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