Page 16 of Every Hidden Truth

With a nod, she returned to the kitchen, and I perused the menu without actually seeing it. Ben’s presence and the nearness of his leg underneath the table was too distracting. He shifted closer, his ankle pressing to mine, and I bit my lip to stop my smile.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ben began, and I closed my menu to give him my full attention. “But what is up with the fixation on gravy?”

Puzzled, I barked out a laugh. “What?”

“Seriously, half this menu is breakfast food covered in gravy. Is that a Midwest thing?”

He’d dropped his voice to a whisper to ensure no one overheard, and I cackled into my shoulder. “Um, I don’t know. Gravy’s delicious, so why not add it to your favorite breakfast?”

“It just seems a bit excessive.” He shrugged as he took a sip of his coffee, and I feigned offense.

“Well, sorry that we’re not all vegan hippies like you California weirdos. We like comfort food. I always get biscuits and gravy.” I fiddled with my silverware to give my fingers something to do as he held up his hands in surrender.

He backtracked quickly, worried he actually offended me. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just an observation.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

The waitress appeared with our waters. “Are you ready to order?”

When Ben nodded, she raised her pen in preparation as he ordered. “I’ll take the double-chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and a side of bacon and hash browns.”

Our haggard server didn’t bat an eyelash at the sugar bomb he’d just ordered. “Sure thing. And for you?”

I handed her my menu as I sent Ben an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. “I’ll take the half-and-half withextragravy and a side of sausage.”

“Links or patties?”

“Links, naturally.” I winked, and Ben flushed to the tips of his ears.

“I’ll get that in for you.”

As the waitress left, Ben circled the lip of his coffee mug with his index finger as he frowned sternly. “Why are you always so crass?”

I gasped with mock innocence as I raised my glass of water to my lips. “Crass?Moi? I have no idea what you’re referring to, Benjamin. I merely ordered sausage links.”

“Right. I forgot you’re a sausage guy.” He smirked, and I snorted into my water.

Not to be outdone, I leaned over the table and said, “You didn’t seem all that averse to sausage last night.”

His eyes widened, and I inclined my head smugly.

“Or was that a roll of quarters in your pocket?”

“Can you not, right now? We’re in public,” he hissed.

Cackling, I rubbed my shoe suggestively against his calf. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does this embarrass you?”

Quick as a whip, his hand snaked under the table and grabbed my knee, squeezing in warning. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” I took another drink. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Why does that not comfort me?”

“Ugh, rude.”

He removed his hand from my knee, placing it on the table next to mine. He traced the veins on the back of my hand. “Would you feel weird if I held your hand?”

Yet again, his open vulnerability left me speechless. I managed a half-nod-shrug combination, and his dimple carved into his cheek as he twined our fingers together.

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