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Joe’s jacket hadMasonstitched on the name tag. His eyes darted around, and he wiped his hands on his jeans more than once.
“Sure, but white meat only. I don’t eat the greasy stuff.”
Dennis cut off some extra for him. “Take care now, Joe.”
“Thanks, Mr. B.”
Not only did Dennis know Joe’s name, but Dennis had been here often enough for Joe to know his name as well.
Joe limped down to the mashed potatoes.
“That’s a wrap,” said the guy in the suit to my right.
“Joe is always our last customer,” Dennis explained.
“Is he always late?”
Dennis continued to carve his bird. “No, but he waits for everyone else to go first.” That painted Joe in a different light. “Would you do me the honor of lunching with me?”
His question meant Martha’s prediction of sharing a meal with him had come true.
I didn’t have to think twice. “Sure.”
He sliced more from the chicken he was working on. “White or dark?” he asked me, just as he had all of his guests.
There was more dark left on his bird. “Dark will be fine.”
“Good, because I’m a breast man myself.” He smiled as he looked up.
No doubt there was a double meaning to his statement.
I stifled my laugh, but couldn’t resist poking him. “I would have taken you for a leg man.”
He moved the chicken slices onto a plate for me. “It’s a close call at times, but I find the breast…” His tongue darted out to wet his upper lip. “…more succulent.”
The wickedness of his smile sent a tingle through me. I couldn’t believe I was standing here trading sexual innuendos with him. I took my plate and walked down the counter to add mashed potatoes and green beans. The thought of a man’s tongue, his tongue, on my nipples sent heat to my core.
Farther down the counter, the brownie plate was almost empty.
He plucked two brownies from the plate, and placed one on each of our plates. “Unless you don’t like chocolate.”
I smiled back at him. “Who doesn’t like chocolate?”
He picked up his plate and motioned toward the tables.
I moved out of the way. “You saved yourself two? I thought one was the rule.”
He led the way toward an empty table. “The second was for you.”
He nodded at several of the people we passed as they acknowledged him as “Mr. B.”
I took a seat on the bench across from him.
He was already chewing a bite of his brownie. The man and woman who’d been serving next to him walked our way. The way the man guided the woman with a hand at her back made it obvious they were a couple, and a gorgeous one at that.
When he got closer, and with his apron now off, it was easy to tell his suit wasn’t off the rack.
“Thanks for the help, Dennis,” he said. “Lauren and I are going to head out.”
