Jeremy sighed. “I wonder where I learned that from?”
I watched as Charlie leaned over and began to point out things on the menu, speaking quietly in Robert’s ear. They continued to hold hands the entire time.
Jeremy bumped my shoulder, and I turned to look at him. “Sorry about this.”
I felt a little stupid. He was so close. “About what?”
His lips quirked. “Interrupting your meal. I should have known something was up when Dad wanted to come here.”
“It’s all right. Your dad is devious. I like that in a person. Mostly.”
Jeremy snorted. “You have no idea. He looks innocent, but it’s all an act.”
I shrugged. “He just wanted to see Charlie. I get that.”
Jeremy hesitated before shaking his head. “Yep. That’s exactly it.”
I thought I was missing something. “Farmers’ market, huh?”
Jeremy laughed. It was a nice sound. “Dad complains, but I know he likes it. It’s something the two of us try to do a couple of times a month. Have you ever been?”
“No. I’m not usually the farmers’ market type.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And what type is that exactly?”
“The type who needs to get outside when it’s a hundred degrees to buy wilted lettuce when you can just go the air-conditioned grocery store to get the same thing.”
He looked flabbergasted. “It’s locally sourced and supports small business—”
I grimaced. “I’d rather not sweat if I can avoid it.”
“Sometimes being sweaty is okay,” Jeremy said. “Depends on what you’re doing.”
“Whoa,” I whispered.
His eyes bulged. “Oh my God, no. Not—I meant like jogging. Or hiking!”
“Right!” I nodded furiously. “Jogging and hiking! That’s exactly what I thought you meant! Nothing else!”
I was convinced Sally was an angel from god (even though I was lazily agnostic
), as she appeared next to the table to save me from my imagination, where Jeremy got sweaty doing other things that involved much more nudity than jogging or hiking. “Well, don’t you all look cozy,” she said, a big smile on her face.
Did I say angel from god? I meant demon from Satan.
“Don’t we?” Robert asked. “Charlie tells me your apple pie is the best he’s ever had.”
Sally preened. “I make it myself.”
“I must try it. After, of course. Because Charlie also says that I can get cheese on tater tots, and I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of such a thing. I simply have to have it. And an iced tea, if you don’t mind.”
“You got it,” Sally said, scribbling on her note pad. She looked at Jeremy. “For you, hon?”
“A salad,” Jeremy said. “And water.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’ll have the burger. But with no onion. He doesn’t like onions.” It was only then I realized that I’d actually spoken that aloud, but it was already too late. I glanced at the salt and pepper shakers, but Charlie—in his infinite wisdom—moved them out of reach.
“Not an onion fan?” Sally asked.