Page 28 of So Not My Thing
“Sounds good.”
We turned onto Dauphine, and he seemed content to take in the buildings. Rows of brightly colored houses alternated with small shops and cafés. I made sure we were on the opposite side of the street from Mary’s Place. There was no way he would know that I lived right above the restaurant, but even though it made no sense, I didn’t want him walking in front of my house. The idea made me feel weird, like inviting a client into my living room. I wanted to keep business separate from my personal life.
We moved at his pace, stopping when he did to study window displays or pet a dog over a white picket fence in front of a bright teal house.
It would have been a great plan, except when we reached the block with my building, my stomach growled. Loudly. So loudly that Miles whipped his head toward me with wide eyes. “Miss Jones, we need to feed you.”
“It’s fine. I can eat when we’re done.” My stomach revved like a farm tractor.
“Sorry, that’s going to ruin my concentration.” Miles shot me a crooked smile. “That place looks good. Let’s get some food in you.”
He waved at Miss Mary’s, of course. Why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he invite himself to the one place I wanted to keep strictly Miles-free?It wasn’t enough to let him into the neighborhood?I demanded of the universe.
I tried to distract him. “Seriously, don’t worry. My stomach doesn’t know what it’s talking about. Ignore it. Let’s look at the next place.”Why didn’t you go down Burgundy, you huge dummy?
“To be honest, I’m pretty hungry myself,” he said. “Does this place have bad reviews or something?”
No. Just an owner who knows who you are and is going to ask me a million questions later about why we’re together. “No, it’s great.”
“Good. Hard to find bad food in this town. Let’s go.” And he crossed the street.
I froze for about three seconds, trying to think if there was any way to derail him without turning this into more of athing, but I couldn’t come up with a reason, so I hurried to catch up.
“Hey, Ellie,” Nora, the hostess, said as I walked in. “You can go ahead and take your usual spot.”
Miles’s eyebrows went up. “Yourusualspot?”
“Booth in the back corner.” I led him to it and slid in.
“So not only do you like it here, you like it well enough to have a usual spot.” He rubbed his chin like he was Sherlock Holmes. “You probably have a regular dish too, don’t you?”
Like an actor in a sitcom, Kendra, one of Miss Mary’s granddaughters, turned up at the table and deposited two glasses of iced tea. “Your usual, Ellie?”
Miles grinned.
“Yes, please.”
Kendra turned to Miles. “Do you need a menu?”
He shook his head. “No. I want whatever Ellie is having.”
It jolted me to hear him say Ellie instead of Elle.
“How do you feel about seafood and spice?” I asked him.
He scoffed. “Bring it on.”
Kendra’s forehead furrowed a bit. “I don’t think—"
“You heard the man,” I interrupted. She shot me an “are you sure” look. I gave Kendra a bland smile.
She tucked her notebook into her pocket and headed for the kitchen.
I took a drink of my tea, but Miles ignored his, and I felt the weight of his stare even though I didn’t return it. I set the glass down and risked a glance. He looked like he was studying me, trying to read something on my face.
“You don’t want me here,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“It’s fine. I just eat here a lot. Thought it might be better to get a look at the other properties.” Cue my stomach growling. I rolled my eyes. I hated it when my life became a sitcom.
