Page 43 of The Love You Fight For
“Yeah, man,” I finally say. “I’d be honored.”
The door opens, and we both turn to find Lennon and Sam walking in. I round the bar and scoop Lennon into my arms, giving her a twirl while she giggles.
“Congratulations,” I say before finally setting her on her feet and kissing her head. “I’m so happy for you, Len.”
She’s beaming at me with shimmering emotional eyes.
“Thank you. Did Macon ask you yet?” she asks, and I nod.
“It’s my honor, Lennon. Truly. I am honored.”
She throws her arms around my neck with another soft laugh, and I let my eyes flick to Sam. She’s quiet, but her smile for her friend is genuine. Nothing but total happiness and love. Lennon releases me, and Macon snags her, pulling her onto his lap at the bar.
“So we’re going to be godparents,” Sam says wryly, and when I look at her, she’s smirking. I open my mouth to make a snarky comment, but she holds up her hand. “Do not.”
I snap my mouth shut and narrow my eyes playfully, then I look her over. From the way she’s dressed—designer dress slacks, button-down, and jacket, shiny high heels, and a sleek bun in her hair—I’d guess she came straight from work to be with Lennon.
It’s a nearly four-hour drive from D.C., so she must have left as soon as Lennon called her. I smile. Sam is as prickly as they come, but when she cares about someone, she cares with everything she has. Another sign that she does have a heart underneath all that icy bravado.
“I have every intention of being the favorite,” I say to Sam, and she rolls her eyes.
“Dream on.”
She brushes past me to go stand by Lennon, so I go around the bar just as Paul comes in from the back. He takes over the bar and I move into the kitchen. Five minutes later, he comes into the kitchen with a green server ticket, chuckling to himself.
“What?” I ask, and he arches a brow before sliding the server ticket to me. I glance down and read it, and then I laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”
I drop a basket of fries and fix Lennon’s and Macon’s orders as they requested, but I make Sam a simple bacon cheeseburger, taking a moment to draw a crown in ketchup on the inside of the top bun.I place the top bun front and center, and then I bring the orders to their table.
The moment I slide the burger in front of Sam, she hits me with a glare.
“This isn’t what I ordered,” she says, tone bored.
“If you’re looking for seared sea scallops on a bed of baby spinach, you’re in the wrong town, Harper. But I did put some lettuce on the burger for you.”
Macon and Lennon laugh, but I don’t take my eyes off Sam. I’m smirking, and from the way her lips are twitching, she’s trying hard not to.
“And this?” she asks, waving her hand over the decorated top bun.
I shrug.
“Personalization. A crown for the princess. I thought you rich folk enjoyed custom things.”
She sighs, loud and unamused, despite the smile she’s fighting.
“Fine. If this is all you’re capable of, I suppose it will do...”
My grin widens, and I wink.
“My goal is to satisfy you, princess,” I say slowly, dropping my eyes to her lips before scanning her face once more. “I’ve got a perfect track record so far, so maybe you should trust me on this one.”
I walk away without letting her respond, Lennon and Macon’s laughter trailing me into the kitchen.
Once again, my smile doesn’t fade, and the night goes by in a blur of burgers and fry baskets. When a flash of blond hair catches my eye through the kitchen door, I grab my other line cook and have him take over my grill. We’re slowing down, anyway. It’s the last few orders before we switch to just appetizers.
I step up to the bar in front of her and she arches a brow before sliding her eyes to my backward camo ballcap.
“Done in the kitchen, then?” she asks, and I grin.
