Page 84 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

“Change your mind yet on wanting to have dinner with me?” I asked. “My father is a murderer.”

“I’d have a hard time listing all the members of my family who have done some pretty unspeakable things,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sort of a black sheep among them. So is my cousin. It was brought to my attention today that I was apparently raised by sociopaths. The assessment wasn’t exactly wrong.”

I found myself leaning against him, liking the comfort he provided. “Stratton?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a police officer,” I said as if he didn’t already know as much.

“A detective, yes,” he returned.

“So if you found out someone was, say, wanted for a crime, you’d take them in, right?” I asked.

“Astria,” he whispered close to my ear, his hand still on my back. “I’m not a perfect man. I have my fair share of demons. Some are inner. Some are outer. I have a past that could be looked at through a tainted lens if the context wasn’t also considered.”

I turned my face toward his somewhat, our lips nearly touching.

“Didn’t I warn you about what would happen the next time we were near a table?” he asked with a wink.

I laughed softly. “That was a warning? Hmm, I thought it was a promise.”

His lips skated over mine, his large hand cupping the back of my neck, locking me in place as he tongued me passionately.

I was so lost in the moment that at first, I didn’t hear the giggles. When I registered them, I froze, my tongue wrapped around Stratton’s.

He licked my lower lip and drew back some, clearing his throat, his gaze darting to the table full of teens.

They were laughing.

I nudged him. “They looked shocked that you’re not a robot.”

“Imagine how shocked they’d be if they knew I was hornier than a teenager right now,” he said, making me laugh loudly.

I bit at my lip. “I have an idea on how we could fix that.”

His eyes widened. “I’ll get the check and to-go boxes.”

I howled with laughter.

He grinned and stole a chaste kiss before putting his hands up. “I’ll behave myself. For now.”

I nodded. “Same.”

He lowered his hands, his gaze never leaving me. “Tell me something else about yourself.”

“Like what?” I asked, my elation deflating quickly.

“Whatever you’re willing to share,” he said, placing his forearm on the table. “Like, where are you from?”

“I was born in the state of New York. My family moved after my mother passed. From there we pretty much lived all over the place,” I replied. “You?”

“Uh, I was born overseas. Small place no one has ever heard of,” he replied, offering nothing more on it. “How did you end up in Grimm Cove?”

A young man brought out our food on a tray. The man tried to hand me the plastic basket with the grilled chicken and lettuce. I tipped my head toward Stratton and the guy’s eyes widened. He set it in front of Stratton all the same.

Unable to help myself, I snickered.

The guy set down a plastic basket of breaded chicken that was skewered on what looked like six-inch pitchforks. They were lying on a bed of fries. It was exactly how I remembered the food being. “Thanks.”

---