Page 15 of Second Time Around

“She’s doing much better now.”

“I’m glad. I always liked your mom.”

“The feeling is mutual, believe me.”

The way he said it made her curious, but she decided not to ask. Instead, she steered the conversation in a different direction.

“Maggie said you left a good job in Chicago to come here.”

“I did. It was a lot fancier restaurant than this, that’s for sure.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Chicago or the job?”

“Both, either.”

“I enjoyed the energy of the city, but since I’ve been back, I’ve been appreciating the slower pace.”

“We have city life here too, you know.” Having been born and raised in Michigan, she sometimes felt defensive about it.

“I grew up here, remember? I know what all it has to offer.”

He eyed her closely, and she had a feeling he was referring to something other than the landmarks. Then a waitress came up to the table with a tray of food, and Jenna was glad for the distraction.

She assumed the tray contained food for another table too, but as the waitress set down the plates, she realized some of it was for Beck. The dirty rat had planned on joining her all along!

“There you go. If you need anything else, let me know,” the waitress chirped.

“Thanks, Mandy,” Beck said.

She beamed at him and then hurried off. In contrast, Jenna scowled at him.

“What’s wrong?”

As if he didn’t know! “You never mentioned you’d be eating lunch with me.”

“I didn’t?”

She shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

“I thought it was implied.”

She sighed.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t specifically say it, but now that the food is here, can we please eat together?”

Not wanting to make a scene, she said, “I suppose, but I’m not sharing dessert with you.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

She picked up her sandwich and took a big bite of it, thinking she’d eat fast and then be rid of him. However, the second her mouth closed around the grilled sourdough bread, she moaned. This was no ordinary turkey sandwich, and there was nothing boring about it. The bread, toppings, and homemade dressing were what made it delicious. She glanced at Beck, who was sitting still with his pastrami on rye raised in mid-air.

She reached for a napkin and dabbed the corners of her lips. “Why are you staring?”

“No reason.” Then he took a big bite of his own sandwich.

She tried not to zone in on his lips, which she had intimate knowledge of. Twelve years had passed, but she still remembered what they’d felt like pressed against hers, and on other body parts as well.