slide.”
My eyes got wider.
He kept speaking.
“Baked potato or fries and before you waste my time, a loaded potato comes with butter, salt and pepper, sour cream and chives. If you’re gonna eat a potato, I won’t like you if you don’t get it loaded.”
My eyes got even wider.
“Okay, then potato. Loaded.”
I mean, what else could I say?
Still, truth be told, I wanted it loaded.
“You want veggies?” he asked.
“Uh…sure?” I asked back.
“Women, they eat the veggies and/or make their kids eat ‘em. Men are men ‘cause they got out from under their Momma’s thumb and can say a big ‘eff you to vegetables. I carry no judgment, a woman wants her veggies,” he informed me.
“Well, that’s good,” I muttered.
“Still, you could bust my chops, order a steak well-done, a potato plain and ask me to steam the veggies and I’d do it for you ‘cause you’re just that beautiful.”
Wow.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“Though, that said, it’d still be a pain in my ass.”
I heard Gray chuckle and I liked it, I liked seeing his face when he was amused but I couldn’t tear my eyes off this guy.
“Sonny,” a female from down the table called, “there’s children present.”
Sonny, our unusual waiter, looked down the table and asked, “My seed make that kid?”
I heard Gray chuckle again as my eyes got even wider.
“Of course not!” she cried, offended.
“Then do I care?” Sonny fired back.
I pressed my lips together. Gray’s chuckle became laughter.
“Honestly!” the woman huffed.
“That’s about it,” Sonny muttered then without another word he took off.
I watched him go then my eyes dazedly drifted back to Gray to see the dimple on full display which did nothing to assist my daze.
“Sonny’s a character,” he pointed out the obvious.
“I think I got that,” I returned the favor.
His dimple pressed deeper.
Seeing that, my mind became consumed with the hope that this date would end with a kiss.
“He went to school with my Dad,” Gray informed me.
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and nodded.
“Granddad died, he left Dad the place. Dad died, he left it to me,” Gray kept sharing.
I nodded again and there it was. His Gran was living with him and it was her home. He didn’t lie and I was glad to know it.
His voice was quieter when he asked, “What’s your Dad do?”
My eyes slid from his as I felt steel bands clamp around my ribs.
“Ivey,” he called and my eyes slid back.
“Don’t know my Dad.”
He held my eyes and I let him.
Then he asked, “Ever?”
I shook my head.
I watched him pull in a soft breath.
I changed the subject.
“What is your place?”
“Say again?”
“What’s your place? Is it an orchard, a ranch, a farm?”
“Ranch and orchard. We got peach trees and we got horses.”
That was interesting.
“Horses?” I asked.
Gray nodded. “Breed ‘em, raise ‘em, break ‘em, train ‘em, sell ‘em.”
“Oh,” I whispered, liking this. I’d never ridden a horse but I thought they were very pretty.
“Mustangs,” he went on and my gaze sharpened on him because I liked that more even though I had no idea why. “Or they used to be,” he continued and grinned. “Obviously not wild anymore.”
“Right,” I said softly really not knowing what he meant.
He must have read my face because he leaned toward me and explained, “Mustangs were and still are free-roaming. In other words, wild. Sometimes, to control the population, they’ll let them be captured and adopted. But to be a true mustang, the horse needs to be wild. My great granddad and his dad before him, before they were managed, used to go out and capture them, break ‘em, breed ‘em. Sometimes we’ll adopt to get new blood because we need it since all our horses’ ancestry is mustang.”
I thought that was fascinating.
“Have you captured any?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
That was even more fascinating.
So much, I smiled.
Gray smiled
My eyes got wider.
He kept speaking.
“Baked potato or fries and before you waste my time, a loaded potato comes with butter, salt and pepper, sour cream and chives. If you’re gonna eat a potato, I won’t like you if you don’t get it loaded.”
My eyes got even wider.
“Okay, then potato. Loaded.”
I mean, what else could I say?
Still, truth be told, I wanted it loaded.
“You want veggies?” he asked.
“Uh…sure?” I asked back.
“Women, they eat the veggies and/or make their kids eat ‘em. Men are men ‘cause they got out from under their Momma’s thumb and can say a big ‘eff you to vegetables. I carry no judgment, a woman wants her veggies,” he informed me.
“Well, that’s good,” I muttered.
“Still, you could bust my chops, order a steak well-done, a potato plain and ask me to steam the veggies and I’d do it for you ‘cause you’re just that beautiful.”
Wow.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“Though, that said, it’d still be a pain in my ass.”
I heard Gray chuckle and I liked it, I liked seeing his face when he was amused but I couldn’t tear my eyes off this guy.
“Sonny,” a female from down the table called, “there’s children present.”
Sonny, our unusual waiter, looked down the table and asked, “My seed make that kid?”
I heard Gray chuckle again as my eyes got even wider.
“Of course not!” she cried, offended.
“Then do I care?” Sonny fired back.
I pressed my lips together. Gray’s chuckle became laughter.
“Honestly!” the woman huffed.
“That’s about it,” Sonny muttered then without another word he took off.
I watched him go then my eyes dazedly drifted back to Gray to see the dimple on full display which did nothing to assist my daze.
“Sonny’s a character,” he pointed out the obvious.
“I think I got that,” I returned the favor.
His dimple pressed deeper.
Seeing that, my mind became consumed with the hope that this date would end with a kiss.
“He went to school with my Dad,” Gray informed me.
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and nodded.
“Granddad died, he left Dad the place. Dad died, he left it to me,” Gray kept sharing.
I nodded again and there it was. His Gran was living with him and it was her home. He didn’t lie and I was glad to know it.
His voice was quieter when he asked, “What’s your Dad do?”
My eyes slid from his as I felt steel bands clamp around my ribs.
“Ivey,” he called and my eyes slid back.
“Don’t know my Dad.”
He held my eyes and I let him.
Then he asked, “Ever?”
I shook my head.
I watched him pull in a soft breath.
I changed the subject.
“What is your place?”
“Say again?”
“What’s your place? Is it an orchard, a ranch, a farm?”
“Ranch and orchard. We got peach trees and we got horses.”
That was interesting.
“Horses?” I asked.
Gray nodded. “Breed ‘em, raise ‘em, break ‘em, train ‘em, sell ‘em.”
“Oh,” I whispered, liking this. I’d never ridden a horse but I thought they were very pretty.
“Mustangs,” he went on and my gaze sharpened on him because I liked that more even though I had no idea why. “Or they used to be,” he continued and grinned. “Obviously not wild anymore.”
“Right,” I said softly really not knowing what he meant.
He must have read my face because he leaned toward me and explained, “Mustangs were and still are free-roaming. In other words, wild. Sometimes, to control the population, they’ll let them be captured and adopted. But to be a true mustang, the horse needs to be wild. My great granddad and his dad before him, before they were managed, used to go out and capture them, break ‘em, breed ‘em. Sometimes we’ll adopt to get new blood because we need it since all our horses’ ancestry is mustang.”
I thought that was fascinating.
“Have you captured any?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
That was even more fascinating.
So much, I smiled.
Gray smiled
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