Page 47 of Craving Francesca

“My ma’s.”

“You told her?”

“No, I asked if I could borrow her rig,” he said, glancing at me. “She didn’t ask why.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t think you’d be comfortable on the back of my bike,” he said softly.

“Oh,” I repeated. “Um, yeah, thanks.”

“Want a burger?” he asked as he pulled into a local fast-food restaurant.

“No, but I’ll take some fish and chips,” I replied. “With extra lemon.”

“Shit, that sounds better,” he said, turning toward the window. “Could I get two fish and chips, please? Four-piece.” He turned back to me. “Drink?”

“Iced tea, please,” I replied, stuffing my hand into my purse in search of my wallet.

“With two iced teas.”

“And extra lemon,” I said quickly.

“With extra lemon,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re so polite.”

“Costs nothin’ to be polite.”

“You should remind Rumi of that.”

“Rumi’s a lost cause,” he replied, his lips twitching as he pulled up to the window. He leaned up to pull his wallet out of his pocket as I held out cash.

“I’ll pay,” I said, flapping the cash up and down.

He handed his bank card through the window without a word.

“At least let me give you gas money or something.”

“Not takin’ your money.”

“You’ve gone out of your way for me twice now.”

He took back his card from the cashier. “Thanks, man.”

“Gray,” I called, waving the cash.

“Put it away so you can hold the food,” he ordered as he reached through the window for our drinks.

“You’re such adude,” I grumbled as I stuffed the cash between the seats for his mom to find later.

“I saw that shit,” he shot back as he set the iced teas in the cup holders.

Once we had our food, Gray pulled over to a parking spot in the shade under some trees.

“Thanks for lunch,” I said, handing him his bag of food.

“Stop thanking me.”

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