Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(4)

“All of them are good, but her apple is the best,” I offered as I stared at the heaping pile of fries. Then, just before I spread out my napkin to begin hacking at the colossal sandwich, which was impossible for me to eat in one sitting, I caved.

“Do you like tenderloins?” I asked, knowing there was no way I could eat all of it anyway. It was almost humiliating having that much on one plate when this guy was clearly as hungry as a bitch wolf with nine pups.

“I do,” he answered, looking at me over his shoulder.

“I’ve got a little over half of this that I can’t eat. I’ll split it with you, if you’re that hungry.”

Diana crooked her head to the side and opened her mouth, about to make a bigger deal out of my gesture than necessary. Then she snapped it shut just as quick. She knew better.

I rolled my eyes at her and asked, “Can we get an extra plate, please?”

“Sure, honey. And what do you want to drink?” she asked the guy as she set my tea down.

“I’ll take a glass of milk,” he answered and walked over to my table. Then with the same pointing thing he’d done a minute ago, he silently asked if he could sit on the empty side of the booth.

What was it with this guy and finger pointing questions at me?

Dramatically, I nodded again, trying to hide my smile. Even if he was grouchy, he’d be nice to look at while I ate.

Diana came back with his milk, silverware, and the extra plate with a bun on it, setting all of it in front of the guy.

“I’ll be in back. Holler if you need me,” she said as she winked and walked off. When she got to the kitchen door, I glanced her way and she wafted her hand in front of her face and mouthed, “He’s hot.”

It was almost comical how he was looking at my sandwich. With my knife and fork, not knowing his stance on strangers touching his food, I cut the tenderloin in half and forked it over to his plate. Then I lifted my plate and spilled half of the fries over to his.

“So what’s your name? I don’t know you,” I said.

“Vaughn Renfro,” he answered, but he was more concerned with his food. He smiled up at me, but quickly went back to his full plate, popping a lattice fry in his mouth as he reached for the ketchup.

I squirted mustard on my bun and placed the pickles on it just how I liked. By the time I was applying ketchup to my fries, he was already digging in to his half. I doused my plate in ketchup, not missing a single bite.

Observing my overuse of ketchup, he looked at me questioningly with his mouth full. His face had changed from the hungry, frustrated one that walked in to a friendly, more likeable one. Now I could see what Diana was saying.

He was seriously hot.

Blue eyes. Short, dirty-blond hair. I watched the muscles in his jaw work as he hauled ass on the sandwich. I also took note of his forearms and big hands.

We ate in almost silence, except for the moaning and grunting coming from the other side of the booth. And I’m not proud to admit it, but the sounds he made were kind of hot, too.

“Pretty good stuff, huh?” I asked, capturing a piece of ice and giving it a loud crunch.

He cringed immediately at the sound, then swallowed.

“Oh my God, I thought I was going to die.”

“Yeah, I could tell. You had that hungry man thing going on.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, sorry about that. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“I hear you.”

“So how is it that you can get served food when the kitchen is closed? I need to learn your trick.” He sat back and took a long drink of his milk. It left a little white ring on his lip before he licked it off. Under normal circumstances, it would have looked dumb. But him doing it? Well, it was hot. I’m not going to lie.

“I’ve known Diana my whole life. I work across the street. No trick. I just called her a while ago and had her keep it warm for me.”

He looked thought the window at our building across the street. “You work at that garage over there?”

“Yep,” I answered as I kept eating. I was hungry too, but, unlike this guy, I liked to enjoy my food.

“Did she call you … Mutt?” he asked, his facial expression confessing he thought he’d heard wrong.

“Yep.”

“Why would she call you that?”

I hated that question, but I gave him my stock response anyway.

“It’s a family name.”

Which was true. If my mom hadn’t been such a friendly lady, I’m sure it never would have stuck. Before he could say anything more about it, I asked him a question to change the subject.

“What were you shitting about in your vehicle when I walked in?”

He leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table and ran his fingers over his head. Something he’d done a few times already. Must have been a nervous tick.

“Well, I’m the new dentist in Dr. Carver’s office, and I’ve been moving all day.”

That was all he needed to say. I hated moving. Not that I’d ever moved, but I’d helped friends move plenty of times, and it was total bullshit. He could have stopped there and I would have called that justification, but he continued.

“I had a flat on the U-Haul about two hours into the drive. Then when I got here I realized I’d packed the new house keys in the trailer. I had to unload some of the boxes on the driveway until I found the one they were in. I don’t have any food in the house and I was starving. So I drove here, remembering there was a restaurant on this corner, and just as I pulled in, my check engine light came on.”