Page 38 of Micah
It's disconcerting.
And strangely flattering.
Mostly disconcerting.
Patrick slaps the bar.
“Sloane! Quit daydreaming and get these boys some menus.”
I blink.
Realizing I've been staring.
Oops.
I grab a stack of laminated menus and head out onto the floor.
Sawyer grins.
“Evening, Red.”
“Hi, Sawyer.”
“Kitchen open?”
“It always is.”
Benji smiles warmly.
“Smells amazing in here.”
“It better! We've been smoking meat since dawn.”
He laughs.
Then I reach Micah.
He's already pulling out a chair.
Already looking away.
Like he wasn't just watching me thirty seconds ago.
“Hi,” I say.
His eyes lift.
Meet mine.
Hold them.
“Hi.”
One word.
Low.
Rough.
