Page 11 of A Brush with Love
Because, obviously, big greasy sandwiches were the epitome of romance and seduction.
Harper’s eyes creased with a smile. “Dan, my last name isHorowitz. I don’t think it gets any more Ashkenazi than that. Of course I like Jewish delis. Are you talking about Martin’s?”
“You’ve been?”
She laughed. “Only a few times a week for the past four years. Martin, the owner, knows my rabbi back home.”
“That’s a small world.”
Harper shrugged. “Jewish geography is alive and well. Let’s go. I’m freezing.”
They walked the few blocks in companionable silence, the sharp bite of December wind offset by Harper’s warm energy.
Harper beat him to the door and held it open for him. Dan smiled and stepped inside, the blast of heat in the shop making him strip off his coat while the smell of pickles and fresh bread had his mouth watering. A surly man whom Dan assumed to be Martin was hunched over the counter.
Martin shot Dan a dirty look as he walked in, but straightened and offered a toothy grin when Harper followed behind. Dan wouldn’t be surprised if she had that effect on every man.
“Harpa, my princess!” The man’s Brooklyn accent boomed through the deli. He shuffled between the counters and moved toward them, wrapping Harper in a hug. “How ya doin’, sweetie?”
Before giving her pause to answer, he turned to size up Dan.
“Who’s the goy?” he asked sharply. The mood took a sharp left turn and landed somewhere between meet-the-father and overly-protective-uncle territory. Dan was glad there weren’t any shotguns mounted on the walls as Martin continued to stare at him.
“Martin, this is my…” Harper paused and gave Dan a searching glance. “… friend. My friend Dan. We go to school together.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dan said, stretching out his hand. Martin shot him a skeptical look before returning the shake, squeezing harder than was necessary. Dan squeezed back.
Dan glanced over at Harper and caught her staring, slightly slack-jawed, at his forearm. He flexed—inadvertently of course—and felt a primitive thrill when her eyes widened. Interesting.
As if sensing him looking at her, Harper’s gaze shot to Dan’s face. Busted and guilty, Dan dropped Martin’s hand and pretended to study the menu.
“The usual, dollface?” Martin asked, moving back behind the counter.
“Yes, please. With extra Russian dressing.”
Martin winked at Harper and turned an expectant stare to Dan, who was only one column through the ridiculously extensive menu.
“I’ll do the Slammer,” Dan said, choosing the first thing his eyes landed on. Martin nodded and slapped the giant sandwiches together with surprising speed. Dan pulled out his wallet as Martin set their meals on the counter, but the man stopped him with a raised hand.
“Harpa eats free. So do her… friends,” Martin said, giving Dan another skeptical sweep up and down.
“I insist.” Dan handed over his credit card.
Martin gave him a thoughtful look then nodded, taking the card and ringing him up.
“You didn’t need to do that,” Harper said, turning to Dan.
He shrugged. “Want and need rarely line up,” he said with a wink. Color exploded on her cheeks, and she swallowed.
“Well, thank you.”
Harper stared at him a moment longer before awkwardly reaching up and patting his shoulder. He fought back a grin asshe cringed and jerked her hand away. She snatched up the sandwiches and darted to a table in the back while Dan finished with the receipt.
When he looked up, Martin was glaring at him. They stared at each other for a moment, a healthy dose of fear trickling down Dan’s spine.
“Don’t try anything smart,” Martin said at last, his eyes flicking to Harper for a second before he turned and lumbered off, leaving Dan nodding foolishly in his wake.
CHAPTER 6
