Page 33 of Hungry Hearts

We stop in front of The Friendly Toast and Ryder holds the door open for me. The grass-green walls and matching chairs are bright and not a usual shade I’ve seen in restaurants. Silly signs and artwork fill the walls with organized chaos.

The fifties diner-style chairs, red pleather booths, and Formica tables is not what I expect someone like Ryder to pick for lunch. “This is cute. Different vibe than I expected.”

“What did you expect?” He keeps his hand on my lower back as we wait for the hostess to seat us.

“Not bright and vibrant. Although, it does match your personality. But Red does as well.”

“Right this way.” The hostess motions with two menus and we follow her to our table. “Henry will be right with you.”

“Is this okay?” Ryder asks after I pick up the menu.

I scan the fun dishes, from churro bites to chicken and waffles to donut breakfast sandwiches. The combinations of classic breakfast foods are creative and unique. “Wow. This menu is amazing. So fun. What do you recommend?”

“I recommend you order everything that looks good to you.”

“I’d be here for days.”

“I can clear my calendar.”

I lower my menu and smile across the table at him. He’s a busy, popular man, but I have a feeling he’d do that. Clear his calendar for me.

“I take back what I said before. Red suits you more than this place.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Resting my elbows on the table, I lean forward. “Red is sexy and sensual. The Friendly Toast is fun and eclectic. Even when you’re flirting and being your charming self, there’s that dark, sensual side of you waiting to come out. It’s like...” I tap my finger to my chin. “Like The Friendly Toast side of you is almost a cover so people don’t see the real you. Which is ironic since Red is your restaurant.”

He stares at me, unmoving for a long minute before he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “All those years of wasted money on therapy when you figure me out in a matter of days.”

I can’t tell if he’s teasing or not. Even though I was only a psychology major for one year, I’ve always been intrigued by the mind. From what I’ve read and researched, most people who use a sense of humor to communicate use it—consciously or subconsciously—to mask a hurt they’ve buried deep inside.

It’s too early in our dating relationship to dig deeper, and I’m not even sure I want to. If he opens up to me about his secrets, he’ll expect me to do the same. When the waiter comes around, we both place our orders. The Avocado and Salmon Toast Flight for me and A Damn Good Egg Sandwich for Ryder.

We drink our coffee and talk about our work. When our food comes, we eat in silence for a few minutes before I break it. I dab my mouth with my napkin and return it to my lap. “Tell me about growing up in Ohio. I’ve never been.”

“There’s probably a reason.” He sets his sandwich down and wipes his hands on his napkin. “It’s boring as hell. Nolan and I didn’t know what we wanted to do in life, but we didn’t want to do it there.”

“How did you end up in Boston? Is he here too?”

“Long or short version?”

“Whichever you want to tell.”

“The long will take many more dates to get all the details out.”

I pick up my coffee and look up at the ceiling, pretending to ponder. “Let’s start with the short today, and you can add to it during our future dates.”

“Good answer, Angel.” He leans against the back of his chair and stretches his legs out, his feet bumping into mine.

Instead of pulling away, I trap his foot between mine. Ice-blue eyes darken and he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. His heated stare warms my insides more than my coffee. I set it down and reach for my ice water.

The fishhook grin tells me he’s fully aware of why I switched beverages. “You were saying?” I prompt.

He scratches his neck and nods, snapping back from his lust-filled trance. “Noles comes from a good family. His parents are like my second set, although, I’m closer to them than my own. He wasn’t running from anything, but there aren’t many opportunities for a Navy guy in Ohio. I was bored without him and figured I’d try my hand at something different and moved to New Orleans.”

“Did you always want to be a chef?”

“God, no. My parents manage a McDonald's franchise in my hometown. It’s the only place I worked and I hated the food industry, but as an eighteen-year-old, it was all I knew. I got a job in a kitchen in the French Quarter. Never had Cajun food before and didn’t mind it, but I grew up on Micky D’s. I didn’t care for the fancy shit. After a few months, I found a job at a steakhouse. It was more my style. Pay sucked though.”

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