Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

“What do you want to drink? I’ll go and get us a food menu, too.”

I look around to see what other people are drinking before I answer, “I’ll have a bottle of beer.”

He nods his head before he spins around, pushing through the crowd to the bar. Several different sports play on the TVs—a football game, a baseball re-run, and a boxing match. The shouts when someone scores reverberate throughout the room, and I can’t help the grin lifting up my lips.

Tilting my head back, I stare at my skewed reflection in the overhead industrial cone-shaped light. The lights from the TV flash off it, creating its own beat as Nate sidles back up to the booth, placing my bottle of beer in front of me and handing me a menu.

“So…” I start, my gaze skimming over the laminated card. “What’s good to eat here?”

“Everything, but I’d recommend one of the burgers with the sweet potato fries instead of regular.” His gaze wanders over to one of the TVs and he raises his hand. “Come on! That was in!”

I smirk before choosing what I want to eat and sliding the menu back over to him. I can’t help but stare as he gets into the game, his eyes flashing and his hands clenching into fists as he jerks forward, almost as if he’s playing the game himself. I could stare at his striking face all day. Wait—what?

“Nate?” He doesn’t answer me, too enthralled with the game. “Nate?” I try again, only this time I place my hand on his arm, squeezing softly to get his attention.

His head whips around, his eyes focusing on mine before they flick down to my hand on his arm and back up.

He clears his throat. “Food. Right. What do you want and I’ll go up and order?”

“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger with regular fries.”

“Trust me, you want the sweet potato fries.”

“Trust me,” I say, mocking him with a raised brow. “I need my carbs, ergo, I’ll have the regular fries.”

“Sweet potatoes are carbs.” He shrugs. “But it’s your funeral. Don’t try stealing mine when they bring them over.”

“Yeah, okay.” I snort before lowering my voice. “Health freak.”

He untucks the light-blue shirt he’s wearing from his suit pants before lifting it up. My eyes widen, taking in his washboard abs. “Just saying: I didn’t get these from sitting down on my ass eating regular fries all day long.”

I swallow hard as he keeps his shirt raised, my gaze counting all six of his abs and the cut muscles with a happy trail leading down to his… oh God, stop looking!

I try to tear my eyes away but it’s hard—so hard. When I finally manage to, my gaze flicks up to his and I can see the amusement flash in his green eyes. I get lost in them for a second as he leans forward, letting his shirt drop and covering all of his… sexiness.

“I—” I clear my throat as he comes even closer, his breath skating across my cheek as he lays his hands on the table on either side of me.

“Cat got your tongue?”

My breath catches as the scent of his cologne wraps around me—sandalwood with a hint of lemon. “I—” Ugh, how can he render me effectively speechless? This isn’t good, I need to—

He leans even closer causing goose bumps to race over my skin as he breathes me in in the same way I am. My eyes flutter closed.

“I’ll still take those regular fries,” I manage to force out.

That breaks the spell we seemed to be under because he pulls back, standing up straight and tucking the front of his shirt into his pants again like there wasn’t just fireworks exploding between us. “What the lady wants, the lady gets. I’ll be right back.”

I sag into my seat when he steps away, feeling like I can finally take a much-needed breath. It’s not the first time he’s made me feel like I can’t control myself, and I’m almost certain it won’t be the last.

Not that I’ll go there with him. I don’t think. No. No, I can’t go there, not with Nate. Even if his washboard abs and happy trail make me extra happy.

He comes back a few minutes later, settling down in the booth a foot away from me, his eyes fixed on the TV screen and the game that’s playing. I’m glad for the reprieve from him, even if it is only for a few minutes.

The food comes to the table as the game finishes up and I pick up one of my fries, popping it into my mouth as I stare at his plate. He’s too engrossed with his burger so he doesn’t see my hand reach over and pick up one of his sweet potato fries until it’s too late.

“What was that? I told you there was no touching of my fries once they came.”

I shrug, chewing on it, hating to admit he was right. They’re delicious. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” He raises a brow in question. “They’re okay, I suppose.” I turn away, picking up my burger and moaning as the greasiness hits my tongue, the mouthwatering bacon and beef of the burger melting in my mouth.