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“Booth then?” Nero said.
“They are more intimate,” the hostess replied.
“How wide are the booths?” I asked. “I don’t need my boobs sitting on the table with our plates.” I didn’t want to be difficult, but I also wanted to be comfortable.
“Plenty of room,” the hostess said.
I clapped my hands together. “Booth it is.”
“Great. Follow me.” She grabbed two menus, and we trailed her into the main dining room. Most of the tables were filled with families and couples.
Nero waited for me to choose a side, then we both shimmied in across from each other. The hostess was right; there was plenty of room.
“I’ll have a waitress right over to you.”
“Thank you, Tabitha.” Nero flashed his signature Grasso charm, and Tabitha’s lip quirked.
“How do you know her name?” He probably flirted with her while I was setting up the cake. He couldn’t help himself. I knew that, so I wasn’t sure why the thought bothered me so much.
His eyebrow arched. “It was on her nametag.”
“You going to go for it?”
“What?”
I nodded toward Tabitha and her long legs. Nero followed my gaze before turning to the menu.
“I’m more than a playboy, Lanes,” he gritted out, and I jolted from his tone.
It wasn’t the first time I’d teased him about his endless flirting. But he must not have been in the mood. I shifted in the booth, wishing my heels touched the floor. Nero’s type was tall. Thin. Maybe I just threw that in his face all the time because I was in constant denial.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He attempted a smile over the menu, but it was off. “I have six siblings. I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” He picked up the menu, lips swishing back and forth. “What are you getting?”
He slid the other menu over to me, and I snatched it up. My attention immediately narrowed in on the numbers and holy—
“I told you not to look at the prices.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
Heat filled my cheeks under his scrutiny. He glanced toward my hand that was tugging on my ear…damn it!
I dropped my hand into my lap and fiddled with the hem of my shirt. “I tried not to,” I admitted. “But Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… Do you see how much they want for an order of mozzarella sticks?”
“If you want mozzarella sticks, then get mozzarella sticks.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying twenty-two dollars for a plate of fried cheese is a lot of money.” I gasped as the description came into focus. “You only get four! That’s over five dollars per stick. At least give me six. Hell, at that price, give me eight.”
“It comes with two types of dipping sauce.”
“For that price, someone should dip it for me and feed it to me.”
“This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”
