Page 17 of The Love Shack

To the left was a dark-haired man sitting alone. Broad shoulders strained the fine fabric of his blue button-up shirt worn over faded jeans. He had the sleeves rolled up over hair-dusted forearms. Keeping his concentration on a plate of food before him, he didn’t notice her approach.

Lark cleared her throat.

Nothing. It was as if the rest of the busy restaurant didn’t exist.

Lightly, she touched his shoulder. “Excuse me.”

His neck stiffened, then his head jerked around. Through black-rimmed glasses, he stared at her hand in surprise. Older than her, judging by the faint touch of silver at his temples, but definitely notold. Midthirties, maybe.

Intense.That was the first description to imprint on her brain. So very, very intense.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your meal,” she said while removing her hand.

Dark eyes stared at her in question.

Oh, he wouldn’t be an easy one to win over. Did she want to win him over? Yes, maybe she did. “Is this stool taken? If you’re saving it for someone—”

“Feel free.” He turned back to his food.

Lark barely tempered her smile at his deliberate dismissal. “Is that good?”

His disbelieving gaze swung back to her.

“The food, I mean. I haven’t eaten here yet, but it’s been a rough day, so I need something totally decadent, usually forbidden and terrible for me. If I was a drinker, I’d order a whiskey, but I can’t go that far, so it’ll have to be something fried, even greasy, with a lot of flavor and calories.”

It took the man three whole seconds to react. Casually, he lifted a napkin and wiped his mouth, then turned slightly to face her, a forearm braced on the bar. “It’s my first time here, too, and I had a similar plan in mind.” Wearing a slight frown, he adjusted his glasses. “They don’t serve whiskey.”

Lips twitching, Lark asked, “You tried?”

“No, not really. I researched the place. The whole town, actually.”

“Really? That’s wonderful. When I relocated here a month ago, I made a point of doing the same. I even went around and met as many business proprietors as I could, just to familiarize myself. Not enough people do that. It’s important to know a place, don’t you think?”

He looked at her as if unsure what to make of her.

Yes, she had gotten a little too perky and chatty there. It was like meeting a kindred spirit. She instantly wanted to bond, maybe compare notes on outlooks. It was especially refreshing after her trying day at the salon.

A very handsome young man approached and said, “Hey there. I’m Wheeler and I’ll be serving you.”

She held out a hand. “I’m Lark Penny, new at the salon. Nice to meet you, Wheeler.”

His very engaging smile brightened a few watts. “Nice to meet you, Lark.” His voice was now a degree deeper, and a little smoother. “What can I get you? Or do you need a menu?”

She turned back to her stool neighbor. “The food?”

Blankly, her Clark Kent look-alike glanced at his half-eaten meal. “The loaded burger is great. They have some kind of special sauce that adds a little zest. Fries are perfectly browned.”

“Awesome. I’ll have what he’s having, with a Coke, light ice.” She leaned toward Wheeler. “I need all the caffeine I can get, and ice waters it down.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him saunter away to the kitchen. Wheeler was closer to her age, blond and had dark brown eyes like the man next to her, though the two of them couldn’t be more different. Where Wheeler was athletic in build, the other dude was thicker, more solid.

And very appealing.

She shifted around to face him. In this position, her knees almost touched his thigh, a fact that her entire body seemed to note. “Now I’ve met Wheeler, and most everyone else in the area.” Holding out her hand, she said, “And you know my name, so you are...?”

His level brows tweaked together once again. “Oliver Roth.” He took her hand in his, and holy smokes, the man had big hands.

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