Page 51 of So That Happened

Mother Dearest:34 and divorced, but still has his hair.

Of course. Because those things obviously belong on opposing sides of a person’s pros and cons list.

I reply that I’m allergic to Farmer’s Markets and set my phone on the table just as Liam comes through the door. He makes his way towards me and shrugs off his jacket, putting it neatly on the back of the empty chair. “What can I get for you?”

My stomach gives another loud rumble, and I hope the music is loud enough to disguise the noise. I look at Liam in puzzlement, and he tilts his head towards the front. “It’s counter service.”

“Oh! Um, don’t worry. I’ll get mine.” I spring upwards, bumping my head into a row of low-hanging chili pepper lights.

“Sit down.” His voice is so commanding that I obey immediately. “It’s on me.”

“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”

He looks at me again with a vaguely confused expression, and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s on the company, I mean. A write-off.”

“Oh. Right.” I glance in the direction of the menu boards for a moment, too flustered to think straight. Why does this man’s presence consistently send me off-kilter? “I like everything. I’ll just have what you’re having.”

Lame.

Liam frowns, then nods. Strides to the front of the restaurant with purpose. I, in turn, avert my eyes so I don’t have to look at his butt in those well-fitting suit pants.

Okay, so I take a peek. But just a quick one.

Quick-ish, anyway.

My phone buzzes again.

Mother Dearest:No need 2 be rude. Blaine’s in the men’s choir, U know. Voice of an angel. U coming home soon? Made chili.

Annie: Sorry, Mom, I’m just not interested in being set up right now. Going to be home late, grabbing dinner out. Thanks!

Mother Dearest:OK. CU L8r. Dad says hi. Lol.

She thinks “Lol” means “lots of love.” I’ve never bothered to correct her, but I often hope she never tries to send anyone a condolences text.

The sobering realization hits me that I’m texting my mom on a weeknight to let her know that I won’t be home for dinner. Yet again, I feel like I’m back in high school.

Until my very manly boss comes back carrying two overflowing trays of food.

I’m talking, enough to feed a soccer team.

He sees me eyeing the pile. “I didn’t know what you liked.”

“So you ordered everything on the menu?” I demand, mostly joking… until I see a guilty flicker in his eyes. My mouth drops open. “You actually ordered everything on the menu?”

He ducks his head as he sits. “Not everything.”

“What did you leave out?”

“The side order of refried beans.”

I burst into startled laughter, and the smallest whisper of a smile crosses his features.

It’s not a proper smile; it’s hardly even the ghost of a smile. But it’s enough to make my stomach drop dangerously.

“How are we going to eat all this?” I continue to giggle. On the outside, I’m laughing at the absurdity of this gesture. But inside, I’m feeling more than a little mushy at how sweet it was.

Liam shrugs those broad shoulders. “Just eat what you want. We’ll put the leftovers in the staff fridge.”

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