Page 63 of Last Date
I decided it’s time we move our relationship forward.
My pulse sped up, and sweat broke out on my upper lip. I wasn’t sure exactly what Merrick meant by that, or what he was planning, but something was definitely different about the way he was treating me. Generally, in public, he acted distant with me. He definitely never touched me or drove me places. It felt as if he was going out of his way to treat me more familiarly. I didn’t mind it. In fact, I kind of really liked it.
But I was confused about exactly what his intentions were. As far as I knew, he was still seeing Peter. Perhaps he just wanted us to be close friends? Close friends had lunch and drove places together, right? As the hostess led us to our table, I tried to remember if I’d ever seen Merrick put his hand on the small of Thomas’ back. I didn’t think I had, but then again, I hadn’t been looking for that either.
We sat down in the booth, and the waitress handed us menus. She had shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair and a cheerful smile. “Good to see you again, Chief Dawson.”
“Thanks, Doris, you too.” Merrick gestured toward me. “This is Kip.”
I grimaced. “Oh, hey.” I highly doubted Doris cared who I was.
She smiled. “Hello, Kip. I think I’ve seen you in here before.”
“I come in with my brother a lot on Sunday mornings.”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s it. I knew you were familiar. Thomas is your brother’s name, right?”
“Yep.”
“I remember you both.” Doris smiled. “Our specials today are rainbow trout with garlic potatoes, or chicken fried steak with biscuits and gravy.”
“Those sound good,” I said, flipping through the menu.
“Do you know what you’d like to drink?” she asked, tugging an order pad and pen from her green apron.
“Iced tea, please,” Merrick said politely, studying his menu.
“I’ll have the same.”
“Sure thing. I’ll give you two a few minutes to figure out the food, and I’ll be right back.” She strode off toward the kitchen like a woman on a mission.
After a few seconds, Merrick closed his menu and set it on the edge of the table.
I glanced up, grimacing. “You already know what you want?”
“Take your time,” he said. “I just tend to get the same thing here.”
“What are you getting?”
He sighed. “You’ll think it’s boring.”
“I’m not going to criticize your lunch choice.” I frowned.
He hesitated. “Promise?”
“Merrick,” I said in exasperation. “Just tell me.”
“Baked chicken and grilled vegetables.”
I laughed. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“No? Admit it, that’s what a senior citizen eats for lunch, right?” He gave a crooked smile.
My stomach warmed at his boyish grin. “It’s also what a health-conscious thirty-something guy eats for lunch.” I set my menu on top of his. “In fact, I think I’ll have the same thing.”
“Really? Are you just trying to make me feel better?”
“No, it sounds good. I’ll feel bloated if I eat that chicken fried steak thing, and I’m not in the mood for fish.”
