Page 16
“A black-and-blue burger basket from Heartland Grill Co., with a side of spicy ketchup and a cold, crisp Sprite, would go a long way. You didn’t hear that from me, though,” Marci said, walking away without a backward glance, as if they hadn’t just had an incredibly telling conversation.
“A black and blue burger it is,” he muttered, pulling out his phone. “As soon as I make a call.”
12
#Mixedmessages
By the time Kian returned to the office with his peace offering, more than ninety minutes had passed since he’d stormed out, yet Joy was still in the same place. When she looked up, he saw genuine surprise on her face.
“You’re back,” she said, eyeing the tray he held.
“With a peace offering. Have you eaten yet?”
“I haven’t,” she said, standing and grabbing her crutches. “That smells good. What is it?”
“Black and blue burger from Heartland Grill Co.,” he answered with a smile. “The sliced black olives and blue cheese crumbles have always been my favorite on their menu.”
“Mine too!” she exclaimed, laughing and licking her lips. The gesture made him wonder what it would feel like to lick her lips for her.
Damn, son, you’ve got to get a grip!
Clearing his throat, he hoped the next sentence would sound normal, not needy with desire. “Want to eat in the break room?”
“You don’t want it to be a working dinner?” she asked, crutching toward the door as he turned and stood in the hallway to let her leave the office.
“Not really. I’d like to enjoy my burger, fries, and spicy ketchup without looking at spreadsheets.”
“Mmm, spicy ketchup,” she said, almost giddy. “I love me some of that.”
“Lead the way,” he said, and she stepped in front of him, walking down the hallway toward the last door. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t watch the sway of her ass the whole way. Did that make him a pig? Probably, but he’d challenge anyone not to when faced with the beautiful woman she’d become.
Once seated, they dug into their food, eating in silence until only crumbs remained and their drinks were gone. “It’s been too long since I’ve had one of those,” Kian said, patting his belly.
“I’m ashamed to say I probably keep them in business.”
“At least you shop local,” he said with a wink. He pointed to her crutches and smiled. “You must really like Country Music Television these days.”
“What now?” Joy asked, leaning in a bit over the table.
“You have a CMT sticker on your crutches. I also noticed a bumper sticker on your car.”
Joy snorted, nearly choking on the sip of pop she’d taken. “That doesn’t stand for Country Music Television. It stands for Charcot-Marie-Tooth Disease.”
The light came on. “That’s why you use crutches and wear braces.”
“Yep,” she answered, looking away. He noticed her cheeks had turned a bit pink, as if she were embarrassed to talk about it.
“Hey, if I’m asking questions that are out of bounds, you don’t have to answer. Please don’t be embarrassed about it, though.”
“I’m not.” Joy lifted her chin and met his gaze. That fire he was used to seeing in her eyes was back. “But you’ve never been interested in the facts about my disability before, so why do you care now?”
Tipping his head to the side, he said, “I know I was a jerk, but I don’t remember ever commenting on your disability.”
Waving her hand, she shook her head. “Sorry, it’s a touchy subject. As if my high school days weren’t hard enough, being diagnosed with the same condition my father was dying from made them even harder.”
“Wait, is this Carcot Tooth thing terminal?” Why hadn't anyone told him this? Second question: why was his heart breaking at the thought of Joy no longer being part of Snowcap Ridge?
Her laughter snapped his head up. “Sorry, I was laughing at how you pronounced it. It’s pronounced SHAR-koh. Jean-Martin Charcot and Pierre Marie of France, along with Howard Henry Tooth of the UK, were the first to identify the nerve disorder.”
