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“Can you handle the heat?” I will my eyes not to go wide at what could totally be taken as an innuendo. I choose to roll with it like that’s exactly what I meant to say. A smile tugs at his lips.
“I do alright. Don’t give me any ghost peppers or anything, but I can handle some heat.” His gaze is smoldering. I guess we aren’t going to completely ignore my heat comment. I’m suddenly very warm. Is the heater on? I remove my sweater. Then immediately feel goosebumps as his eyes rove over my bare shoulders.
I totally missed what he just said. That knowing smile is tugging at his mouth again. I try to avert my eyes from his mouth, but I can’t seem to look away. “You’ve been here before, so you order for the table. Next time I promise to make all the decisions.”
I sit stunned at the promise of another lunch, but I get ahold of myself enough to nod in agreement. It’s about the only thing I can do with him looking at me like that.
“How did you find this place?” he asks. “This isn’t exactly the kind of place your family would frequent.”
“My ex used to come all the time. He and his buddies fancied themselves craft beer experts. They weren’t, but I would tag along. Some of the other guys would bring their girlfriends, but I didn’t exactly have a lot in common with them so I usually just ordered some food and would either read or watch whatever game was playing.”
“So, you’d come with your boyfriend to hang out and then each do your own thing?”
“And people wondered why it didn’t last.” I laugh.
“How long did it last?”
“Um, a month. Maybe two? Honestly, I don’t remember. I haven’t really dated anyone seriously since Denham. And we all know how that went.” I give a wry smile. “What about you? Any relationships other than the Ice Queen?”
Mark gives a short chuckle. “Not really. I’ve gone on a few dates here and there. No one worth mentioning. Things with Natasha got pretty nasty when we got back to Charleston so I mostly focused on work.”
“I’m sorry. I knew she was terrible, but I had no idea she made things hard for you after you broke up.”
“Eh, it was all for the best. She showed her true colors. Eventually she figured out that she wasn’t going to get a rise out of me, and she stopped trying to make my life miserable. It made ending things when I did the best decision of my life. It only took me realizing how much like my dad she was for me to end things.” He clears his throat again. “Anyway. Enough about my baggage.”
“Do you still talk to your dad?” I didn’t mean to ask that question out loud. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.” I wave off the question. “Just ignore me.”
“No. It’s okay.” He pauses. “I stayed in contact with him over the years, much to my mother’s chagrin, but once I found out how much of my life he had been interfering with behind my back I cut the strings. At least I’m trying to. He’s pretty persistent. I refuse to be his puppet. And the only way I could do that was to leave Charleston, so I quit my job and left.”
“And you came back to Ridgeview.”
“And I came back to Ridgeview.”
“I know your mom is ecstatic to have you home again.”
“I find it ironic that she was the one out of town when the prodigal son returned.”
I giggle. “Whatever. You’ve always been the perfect son.”
Mark scoffs. “Hardly.”
“You were always Mister Dependable. Mister Responsible. She would have been lost without you. You have to know that.” A shadow falls over his face. What did I say?
Our server, Chad, saves the day as he comes bearing our food. I could have kissed him for saving the inevitable awkwardness that was about to occur. Then again, kissing our server would probably fall under awkward.
We fall into a comfortable silence as we each loaded up our plates. If this had been a date, I might have held back. I remind myself for the thousandth time this isn’t a date. This is just lunch. With the man I spent half of my childhood in love with. Who at times has made me think he feels the same. I need to think about something else.
Anything else.
Come on, brain. Think of a topic. Any topic. Anything at all. Food. Food is a safe topic. We are currently eating food.
“So, what do you think?” I ask.
I caught him mid-bite. He wipes his mouth with his napkin before replying, “Everything I’ve tried so far has been good.”
The rest of lunch goes by in an enjoyable blur. We talked about anything and everything. Mark opened up a little bit more about life in Charleston. I learned a lot about his friend and former roommate, Todd. It sounds like he’s been a really good friend to Mark. He deserves that. I know I would be lost if it weren’t for my friends.
Other than a conversation that lasts way longer than it needed to about the level of hot sauce I prefer, we had fun. It’s not my fault my brothers used to have hot sauce eating contests. And it’s not my fault that they were all weak in comparison to my apparently iron stomach. It’s definitely not my fault that Mark is evidently a wimp when it comes to spice no matter how much he claimed otherwise.
