Broken Girl(23)

“Hey, now!” I snapped, hoping that he wasn’t going to let go. So many times, people have let go. “I just got that from my new friend,” I whispered.

Lost in the moment of his kindness his eyes consumed me as I plucked the rose cautiously from between his fingers. I closed my eyes and inhaled, filling my lungs with the scent of a single beautiful rose and my head with visions of him loving me for who I was.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he answered.

Again a thick silence rolled between us. I desperately searched my mind for words to shatter the connection that began to smolder. Dishes crashing in the kitchen, a quick breeze that caught my attention, I needed anything that kept me from falling deep for him. I even twirled the stem between my fingers, hoping the movement of the bud would divert his attention away from my eyes. It didn’t work.

“You come here often?” I asked before I focused my attention on my rose. The petals were wrapped tight yet delicately around one another. Protection, warmth, and beauty, words that described what I longed for and wanted in my life.

This was just a lunch, between friends, I kept chanting in my head. A perfect opportunity to remind him, we are only going to be friends . . . that’s all.

“Is this your attempt to hit on me?” He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been here a couple of times.”

“No, I was asking because maybe you’d know what to order and what I should avoid.” I placed my rose on the table, abandoned, and pulled the menu up in front of my face.

He caught the edge of the menu with his fingers and pushed it down. Stretching his hand across one side of the menu, he pointed to the jambalaya.

“This place makes a killer jambalaya with duck and sausage, if you like a little different twist to your food. I’m getting the dozen oysters.”

“A dozen? You won’t get sick?”

“You can never have too many oysters.”

I scrunched up my nose and looked back down at the menu. Shane noticed my reaction, just as anyone who had never had a plate full of oysters placed in front of them to eat. They were nothing more than slickery-slimy-gag-reflex-little-bastards that no matter how sexy people claimed they were, would never be something I’d choose to ever let past my lips on purpose.

“You’ve never had one before, have you?”

“No, well, okay, so I tried one once when I was a kid. They are very slimy. I don’t do slimy.”

“You just didn’t eat them right. I think you should try them with me. Let me show you how to eat them. You can’t let them sit in your mouth. You have to let it slip down your throat; you have to just swallow. I’ll let you have one of my oysters.” He smiled.

“Only one?” I teased.

“You prove you can handle one, I’ll give you another.”

“Yeah, ahhh, I think I’ll pass. You don’t want me hurling all over the restaurant.”

He bent forward across the table and motioned for me to lean in toward him. “I will teach you how to eat them where you won’t hurl. Now, what do you think you want in addition to one of my oysters?”

“The little gem wedge salad.”

“You’ve never eaten Cajun before, have you?”

“No,” I breathed.

He leaned back from the table, a pleased grin filled his face and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, I’ll order for you. I know exactly what to do for first timers. I’ll convert you to my Cajun Queen in no time, Miss Complicated Rose.”

I watched his chest rise with his breath; his self-assurance filled the room, and the speeding beat of my heart filled my ears. There was a little twitch owning the one corner of his mouth as he pulled it into a smile. Our eyes locked just long enough to make my stomach flip and my breath get caught down in my chest.

“Don’t make it too spicy. I usually don’t eat spicy food.” I folded the menu and slipped it to the edge of the table.

Within a few minutes a waitress walked over to our table to take our order. She was strikingly beautiful. Her uncontrollable shiny black hair stood straight up in tight curls behind a thick black headband and her dark skin, flawless as the women in magazines. Philomena, filled her entire name tag pinned to her long white button-up shirt. Her smile, genuine, carried all the way up to her light emerald eyes, her Jamaican accent mingled with the chatter of tables around us.

“Ey, Shane, how was de’ peanuts? Bit of kick, ey’?” she said, pointing to the bowl with a couple peanuts left.

“I liked them. Yeah, they were pretty spicy; spicier than I remember.”

“Oh Yeh’, BJ is bein’ a bit heavy handed on de’ cayenne pepper today.”

“Philomena, this is Rose, the lovely lady who kept me waiting and the reason I had to order the peanuts.” He winked at her.

“Nice ta’ meet yah.” Philomena nodded her head. “Welcome to da Boxin’ Room. I be servin’ yah today. Wha’ might me get Eye’ and Eye’ to fill um’ bellies?”

Shane and I looked at her mesmerized by her beauty and Jamaican timbre. Shane glanced over at me before he cleared his throat and with his boyish charm wrapped the waitress right around his finger, one-word-at-a-time.

“Well, Philomena, you have such a beautiful smile.”

“Tanks,” she answered shyly.