“It all sounds good.”
“It is.”
“So order for me.”
Startled, she opened her eyes wide. She looked up into his eyes. “What?”
“Surprise me. Bring me something you think I’ll like.”
Heat rushed through her, warming her, making her face feel hot. “But I don’t know you, and wouldn’t presume to know what you’d like.”
“But you know good food.”
“Everybody has different tastes.”
“Boone said I can’t go wrong here—well, except for something called grillades—but other than that, he said it’s all really good.” His blue gaze held hers. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t know you,” she reiterated, chin lifting a notch, hoping she sounded calm and controlled, because on the inside her heart was thumping like mad.
“I’m Chris.” He smiled at her, eyes crinkling, his eyes cornflower blue.
“Chris Steir, number seven, center field,” she answered, thinking he was definitely handsome, if you liked rugged, blond men who resembled superheroes. Which she didn’t, she mentally added. She’d always had a soft spot for brunettes. Brunettes with blue eyes. “Let me get your order in.”
She wrote his order up, standing in front of the grill, scribbling down the steak and eggs with country-style potatoes and a side of buttermilk pancakes. She had no idea if he would like any of it, but it didn’t matter. He’d told her to order what she thought was good, and she preferred simple home-style food that tasted good. So this was what he was getting.
With his order in, she refilled his coffee, careful to avoid eye contact, and it wasn’t until she served him his breakfast that she spoke to him again. “What else can I get you?” she asked, hands on her hips, tone brisk. “Ketchup, hot sauce, steak sauce?”
“Your phone number?”
Her head jerked up, her eyes met his. He was smiling at her, but she didn’t smile back. “I don’t know why you want my number.”
“I want to take you out.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because?” One of her eyebrows lifted. “That’s your answer?”
His smile was crooked and his eyes laughed at her. “Yes.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Doesn’t work for you?” he asked, reaching for his knife and fork and cutting into the steak. It was dark pink and juicy, and he looked up at her and nodded approvingly. “Just how I like it.”
“Medium?”
“No, feisty.” He winked at her. “And I will take some hot sauce, if you have Tapatio.”
She didn’t budge, just stood there, staring at him, telling herself she despised men like him. Arrogant. Overly confident.
He arched an eyebrow. “Or Tabasco. That works, too.”
“Do women fall for this? Mr. I’m-So-Sexy-You-Can’t- Refuse-Me?” she demanded tartly, reaching under the counter for bottles of A.1., Tabasco, and ketchup, and practically slamming them down at his elbow.
His blue gaze warmed as it rested on her flushed face. “Does it bother you that I find you beautiful?”
“Yeah. It does.”
He laughed, a big, deep laugh, and his white teeth flashed. “Why?” he asked, popping a generous bite of steak into his mouth.
“Because you don’t know me.”
He chewed, swallowed, his eyes never leaving hers. “But I know what I see. I like what I see.”
Just like John Meeks, she thought, drawing a quick, uncomfortable breath. “And I think that’s shallow.”
He cut another slice off the steak, shrugging, broad shoulders shifting. “Guess I’m shallow.” He stabbed the juicy steak, lifted the bite, but then hesitated, his expression turning thoughtful. “Is that bad?”
She opened her mouth to say something sharp and reproving, wanting to put him in his place, but then surprised herself by laughing. “Yes.” She choked on more smothered laughter. At least she could give him points for being funny. “Most definitely.”
Chris grimaced as he chewed, and yet his eyes danced, the brilliant blue depths bright, alive.
So alive.
A shiver raced through her. She felt the tingle from her nape to her breasts and then deep inside. Goose bumps covered her skin. And yet she didn’t like it, didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to feel anything for a person who reminded her of the high school boyfriend who’d fathered her child and then hadn’t even bothered to send a sympathy note when his son died.
Chris swallowed, took a sip of his water, blotted his firm mouth with his napkin. “Now I know this is probably going to sound shallow, too, and I’m sorry about that ’cause apparently shallow isn’t good, but you’re seriously sexy, and I really want to take you out.”