Page 15 of Must Love Hockey
Her expression softens. “Thank you. That sounds amazing.”
"A glass of chianti for the lady." We both look up to see that our drinks have arrived. That shouldn't be surprising, except it isn't Nancy Elizabeth who's brought them. Instead, it's Castro, wearing the waitress's nametag and apron over his jeans and Brooklyn T-shirt.
“Omigod,” Emily breathes. Her eyes sort of glaze over. It’s not an allergic reaction this time. She’s starstruck.
This is why I will never have a girlfriend. This right here.
“Dude, are you moonlighting?” I grumble at Castro. “That seven-figure salary isn't cutting it for you?”
“I just like to help out,” he says in a smarmy voice. “And it didn't seem like you were going to introduce us to your new friend. Hi.” He sets Emily's wine glass down on the table and then offers his hand. “I’m Jason Castro. I just want you to know that Jimbo is a really stand-up guy. He's a really attentive friend. Except for tonight, that is. He's prompt, he has good personal hygiene, and he volunteers for the Boys and Girls Club of Brooklyn.”
I take my beer out of his hand. Then I reach out an arm and physically push him away from the table. “Thanks for stopping by.”
There's a chorus of snickers from the front of the restaurant.
I want to die. Even if this isn't really a date, Emily is the most beautiful girl I've almost shared a pizza with. And it would be nice if I could finish a conversation with her. Just once. Is it really too much to ask?
“Have you decided what you want for dinner?” Castro pulls Nancy Elizabeth's order pad out of his pocket and clicks the button on her pen.
“Yes. I'd like fifteen minutes of peace and a new job.”
Emily lets out a shriek of laughter.
“Suchhostilityfrom table thirty-three,” Castro complains. “Are you ordering food or not?”
“Yeah, but send Nancy Elizabeth over here, please. Emily has a food allergy, and she'd really prefer to explain it to someone who actually knows the menu.”
“Oh.” Jason flinches. “Good idea. I’ll send her over. You kids have fun.”
Nancy Elizabeth returns to take our order—and to assure Emily that red meat will nottouchour order. “I will make that salad myself,” she promises. “And I’ll watch them make your pizza.”
“Thank you,” Emily says with obvious relief, and I make a mental note to tip Nancy Elizabeth well tonight.
“Also?” I say as I hand back my menu. “Keep those yokels away from me.”
“That might be more difficult than getting your order right,” she says.
“Try,” I insist, and she just smiles.
* * *
I forget all about the Bruisers for a little while, thankfully. Emily is easy company. But then Drake delivers the appetizers, and Silas delivers the pizza.
“There are a lot of people named Nancy Elizabeth who work in this restaurant,” Emily says as Silas plunks a steaming-hot pizza in front of us.
“And they are all so masculine,” I add.
Silas puffs out his chest. “Thank you for noticing. Can I get anyone another drink?”
“Would it make you go away if I said no?” I ask.
“Probably not.”
“Then you'd better bring more alcohol.”
When he walks away, I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have picked a different restaurant.”
Emily plucks a piece of hot pizza off the tray and puts it on her plate. "I don't know, James. The fact that they keep coming over here says something about you."
