Page 26 of Hitched

I look up as the waitress delivers two meals. I smirk as she walks away. And something catches my eye as she walks past the hostess podium. It’s Caleb Harris. “Okay, I’m getting a doggy bag and I’m coming over.”

“Lanes, no. This is like death. You don’t want this.”

“How do you know it isn’t just food poisoning? I’ve seen the shit you eat off that food truck.”

“I’m burning up with fever. It’s a bug. Stay away. I love you too much for you to die, too.”

I roll my eyes as Caleb looks around and sees me. I glare at him. He huffs, like I’m the last person he’d want to see on the face of the earth. The feeling is mutual. “You’ll never guess who just walked in, Brandy.”

“Unless it’s Doc McStuffins, I don’t really care.”

“Caleb Harris.”

“Okay, I’m about to die here. I think I may be hallucinating. Did you just say that Caleb Harris is there, or am I imagining things?”

“It’s not your imagination, Brandy. He’s standing at the hostess podium, looking like he wants to eat me for breakfast.”

“Just make sure he doesn’t…eat you.” I hear her gag. “I can’t believe I said that. I need to puke. Tell me all about it after I die.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I hear her wretch and hang up, as I wince. Before I have a chance to escape, Caleb approaches me. “Following me again, are you.” I comment.

He ignores my statement. “Stood up, Laney? Gosh, what a shame.”

“Fuck you. Brandy came down with the stomach flu, not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Sure.” He says, tipping his chin, unconvinced, sitting down in front of the plate, helping himself.

“I’m not lying. I don’t suppose you would know anything about having a proper date. Where you don’t pre-order for them, unless, of course, it’s with you, and you would dictate what your date would eat, and at the same time, make her order for you, you fucking neanderthal.”

He chuckles, popping a French fry into his mouth. I honestly don’t know how he stays so fit and lean when he drinks like a fish and eats like a forty-five-year-old divorcee. It makes me sick, frankly. “Wouldn’t you love to think so.”

“Based on how you fuck and leave I’d say I’m pretty accurate.”

“You’re just saying that because you wanted me to stay.” He goads.

“Get the fuck out of that chair. I didn’t invite you to sit in it.”

He ignores me, popping another fry into his mouth. “It’s a free country.”

“Not for you, at the moment, it’s not.” I poke.

He just smirks, unscathed.

“What are you doing here, Caleb?” I level with him.

“Believe it or not, I’m starving, and this place is so close to mine, frankly I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“You mean you couldn’t take your dick out of your maid’s mouth long enough for her to cook you something?”

He smirks but otherwise ignores me, continuing to eat Brandy’s dinner. It bugs me that he’s so not bothered by my bitchy comments, even though they’re justified. “So, I told my da about you and your ridiculous proposal.”

He finally shows some interest. Speaking with his mouth full, but covering it, being somewhat like a gentleman, he says. “He ready to put a hit on my head?”

That’s fair. I expected something more like. “You dumb lass. I’d never tell my da that.” So, I don’t respond at first, as I try for a comeback that stings. Then he shocks me. “You didn’t tell him the other thing, did you?”

I do a double-take. “Then he would put a hit on your head. And commit me, too.” His eyes fill with relief. It pisses me off. “But I’ll tell him if it’s the right thing to do.”

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