Page 2 of The First Best Man

The man’s eyes fall closed as a sigh slips between his lips. “Okay. Just the beer, then, I guess.”

“I’ll have that right up for you,” Jasper says, then moves to pour a glass of the same draft IPA he poured for me.

A distinct rumbling fills the air between us, and I look down at the man’s stomach before moving my gaze back up to his. “Hungry?”

He flinches slightly, saying, “I’ve been travelling all day, and I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

I feel bad for him, and I consider telling Jasper to have the boys in the kitchen whip him up a burger, or something. But before I decide, Oscar appears from the back with the largest plate of chili-cheese fries known to man. I swallow thickly as he sets the plate in front of me, then peek over at the man next to me from the corner of my eye.

He’s staring at my dinner, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, and keeps that expression as his eyes raise to meet mine. I shrug as a little giggle pops out of me without my permission.

“I got my order in before they closed the kitchen,” I offer lamely while studiously ignoring the narrowed-eyed expression Jasper shoots me as he delivers the man’s drink.

I most certainly didnotget my order in before they closed down, buthedoesn’t need to know that.

“Jasper, bring me another fork, will you?” I call out, then swivel on my stool to face the man. “Share with me.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” he starts, but I hold up a palm.

“Please. You’d be doing me a favor. There’s no way I can eat all this by myself.”

A choked cough bursts from Jasper’s chest as he delivers the fork I requested and some extra napkins, and at my instant glare, he holds up his palms in surrender the same way he did before and spins around to walk away. I look back at the man as I pick up the fork and offer it to him.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and uncertain.

I nod, and he blows out a relieved breath before plucking the fork from my grasp. Soft laughter rumbles out of me, and I hold out my now-empty hand.

“I’m Kate, by the way.”

“Tucker,” he says, his warm fingers wrapping around my hand in a firm, yet gentle grip.

“Let’s eat,” I say as I release him, and he gives me a nod of thanks as I slide the plate of fries to the right so he can reach them without leaning over me.

“What are the Canadian Rockies?” he blurts after swallowing his first bite.

I look at him, confused, then hear the same words echo from the television’s speakers. I glance up to see he’s answered a clue correctly, and when I look back athim with an arched brow, he grins and shovels another bite of chili-cheese goodness into his mouth.

“No fair,” I say. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He shrugs, fighting to keep his smiling lips together as he chews. I shake my head and refocus on the gameshow, determined to win this little impromptu trivia match.

“According to a meerkat and a flatulent warthog, it means ‘no worries.’”

“What is Hakuna Matata?” I shout with Tucker exclaiming the same question a half-second behind me.

“Yes,” I hiss, pumping a fist in the air, and Tucker laughs as he stabs another forkful of fries.

“You should probably eat something before I inhale the whole plate,” he teases, and I cock my head.

“You’re trying to distract me from becoming tonight’s Bush MonkeyJeopardy!champion, aren’t you?”

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, then motions toward the food with his fork. “Would winning be worth missing out on all this goodness?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, my lips tugging upward. “Winning would be pretty sweet.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, moving to scoop up another bite.

My own fork snakes out, blocking his. We both chuckle. It really is ridiculous, fighting over the fries when there’s a literal mountain of the gooey deliciousness left for us to snack on. Relenting, I move my fork to the left to take some from my side of the plate. As I push the bundle of fries between my lips, a throat clears behind me.

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