Page 68 of Take My Name
We both get the lamb chop special and extra waters.
“Great choice.” Yani winks. “JoJo’s recipe is the best I’ve ever had, and I rarely eat meat, so that should tell ya how good it is.”
“I can’t wait to try it,” I say, grinning at Maisie, whose jaw looks ready to snap in half.
“Be right back with your soup and salads.”
After she leaves, I unfold my napkin and place it in my lap. I organize my silverware so I have room to rest my arms on the table.
“Stop lookin’ so jealous. I’m not her type.”
Maisie’s gaze snaps to mine, her brows furrowed with guilt at getting caught.
“I wasn’t. And how do you know?”
Trying hard not to smirk, I bite my lower lip. “I’m not the one she was eye-fuckin’.”
It takes her a second, but then she realizes. “Oh.” Her eyes shift to where Yani exited. “Really?”
“I mean, can you blame her? You look sexy as hell.”
That embarrassed blush reappears, and I can’t help wondering what else on her body I can make red.
We drink our wine and make small talk during our appetizers. Maisie tells me she’s been rereading her old books, and I beam at that.
“What’s your favorite book?” I ask once our dinner is served.
As expected, the lamb chop is cooked to perfection.
“Whaddya mean?”
“What I just said…”
“Like my favorite book currently? In a specific genre? Or trope?”
I chuckle at her little panicked voice. “Like…your favorite book of all time. The one you think about regularly or one you could reread for the rest of your life and never get tired of. The top-tier book of all books.”
“You know it’s criminal to ask a book lover her favorite book. I have several.”
“Nope, you can only pick one.”
“That’s cruel.”
“You gotta do it,” I tease.
“Fine.” She dabs her mouth with her napkin, then takes a drink of her water. “It’s a book that got me into readin’ in the first place. I wouldn’t say it’sgoodin terms of literary prose, but it made me happy every time I read it. And it’s always stuck with me. Even now.”
“Okay…” I’m intrigued. “What’s the title?”
“Dr. Seuss’sGreen Eggs and Ham.”
My fork hits the plate and she grins.
“I was five, don’t judge me.”
“I’m tryin’ not to…” I mock.
“I was so obsessed, I asked Jerald, our chef at the time, to make me green eggs. Of course my mother said absolutely not, but I refused to eat regular eggs. Finally, one day, Jerry surprised me with a plate of ’em. I was so happy and scarfed ’em down. But whatever he put in ’em to make ’em green made me sick. I threw up for hours and never asked for green eggs ever again.”
