Page 25 of Burn

Pretty eyes, flirty, charming, God, Mila, pull yourself together. This guy is trouble.

But I don’t. I’m brainwashed by alcohol and need food. Maybe after I eat I can resist him. Not likely.

“What are you getting?” We’re leaning in like we’re a couple, or maybe it’s just that crowded in here, and the only way to talk is to be cozy with each other.

“My usual. The fig and pig.”

Given it’s now well past midnight, it appears to be a busy time here even for Christmas Eve. It takes us ten minutes to move through the line, and before I know it, we’re at the counter to order, music blaring so loud you have to yell your order. A man with a thick black beard and tired eyes leans in and asks, “What’ll it be, Ryan?”

Ryan? Who’s Ryan?Maybe he lied to me.

The man behind the counter glances at me, does a quick once over and his eyes land where most do—staring at my tits no longer hidden behind Caleb’s jacket I’m holding in my arms.

Caleb notices and clears his throat, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket. “She’ll have the Trotter and I’ll have the Fig and Pig.” He turns to me. “Thirsty?”

“Yeah . . . water?” I drank so much tonight water is probably a good idea.

He turns back to the counter. “Two waters, a chocolate shake, and a basket of crack.”

Crack? What the fuck?

And he’s looking at me again. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

I had no idea it came in flavors. Last time I knew it was white and came with an expensive addiction. By the amusement that flashes in his eyes, he can see I’m totally lost.

“Chocolate?”

He shakes his head and though I’m standing beside him, I can see the corners of his lips raising in a smile. “You heard the lady.”

Leaning into my side, he whispers, “Relax. It’s french fries with ice cream as the dipping sauce.”

Oh, thank God.

After he pays, which I thank him for, he places his hand on the small of my back and leads me to the stairs. “There’re tables upstairs where we can sit.”

Upstairs, weathered wooden tables, some against the walls, others in the middle of the loft fill the space.

“How often do you come here?” I ask as we make our way toward the only empty table in the corner.

Pulling out a chair, he tips his head for me to sit. Opening doors, pulling out chairs, this guy’s got game for sure. Taking a seat across from me, he smiles. “Sometimes.”

It seems like we’d just sat down when they call “Caleb” from the kitchen. Okay, so Ryan must be his last name. Caleb Ryan. Sexy name for an incredibly sexy man. I chose then to look him over again with the better lighting. He’s definitely muscular, built solid with tattooed forearms. He’s clean shaven, the sharp defining lines of his jaw capturing my attention. He has a really nice jawline.

Caleb stands and winks down at me. “I’ll grab our food.”

I smile but don’t say anything. When he disappears, I have a moment to think. And I’m not sure I want a moment to think because my thoughts are all over the place. They range from I’m totally going home with him to you need to run away.

But I stay.

When he returns with a tray holding three baskets on it, he sets it on the table. “Get ready to taste the best burger of your life.”

“Can’t wait.” By his dancing skills, he has to know I’m totally referring to him more than the burger and by the smirk he has as he sits down across from me, he knows it.

In the basket he slides toward me is my burger and the other in the middle are french fries with what appears to be a cup of chocolate ice cream.

“What’s that?”

“Crack,” he tells me as he takes a fry and dips it in the chocolate ice cream. Just when I think he’s going to eat it, he extends his hand to me. “Try it. You’ll never be the same after one bite.”

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