"You’re one hundred percent right, honey. I'll have the same as my wife. Just hold all the hot sauce and peppers, please." He smiled at me, never looking back up at the Aqua Net nightmare who wanted him to be somebody he wasn’t. We were gonna be just fine. We were already hitting a home run on day one.
"You've got it, sugar," she said, smiling at him before collecting the menus off the table.
“First your boss and now your husband, all in a day’s work, huh, Maddy?” But the way his face broke into this irresistible grin, I knew he was having as much fun as I was.
“We make a good team,” I said. I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip of my ice water. Crushing a mouthful of ice, I bent one knee into my chest and rested my shoe on the bench. Bad habit that I wasn’t getting rid of anytime soon.
As she left, Duke turned to me, "You like spicy food, huh?"
"Yes, I love it. The spicier, the better. I guess you could call it an addiction. Apparently, the more you eat it, the more you build up a tolerance. Then you have to keep climbing the scoville to get the same high."
I wasn't sure what I said, but the table went quiet, and Duke just stared at me without saying a word. I'd never really liked silence, it made me uncomfortable, and that moment wasn't any different. I wanted a cigarette and fumbled for my purse. I’d have to go outside, because Barbie waitress would likely kick me out on my ass for lighting up inside, even though we were the only ones in here.
Actually, maybe it was because I was desperate to fill the vacant space. I didn’t need nicotine. I was trying to quit anyway.
"Know what's cool about spicy food? We all react to it differently. For those of us that like it, it's like getting a high, euphoric, then those who don't like it, the brain releases pain receptors causing discomfort. Cool huh? It's probably the closest I'll ever get to any type of a high since I don't exercise and don't touch drugs or alcohol. Well, that's a lie. I drink but only on special occasions. It's really not that tasty. I've got no idea how people sit there and sip on a beer or, even worse, scotch like they like it. Who actually wants to drink that? Have you ever smelled that stuff? It's pure nail polish remover."
He nodded quietly.
“Okay, I’m babbling. Does this date already suck? I can take mine to go and you can eat in peace.”
He still sat there silently, his golden eyes burning lasers into my skin with their intensity. I should have stayed quiet, but I kept going. Sometimes I can’t shut up. I talk when I’m nervous.
"I really want to eat the hottest pepper on the planet one of these days. Gotta work up the tolerance. Do you watch Hot Ones? God, I’d love to be on that show. Give them a run for their money. They say drink milk, but I like a coke with ice to calm the burn."
Then I burst out laughing, my weird snorting baby pig laugh, but way worse, because I was choking on my own spit I felt so awkward. The clamor was bad enough that one of the line cooks came out of the back and looked up and down the aisle to see who needed the Heimlich.
"Sorry," I said to them, banging on my chest. “Swallowed an ice cube. I’m okay now.” I was probably as red as a beet. I could use that Scotch now after all. I sat back down and leaned across the table toward Duke. "One of my nervous symptoms is verbal diarrhea. It’s stupid, I can’t control it at all."
"I could listen to you talk all day," he said, reaching across the table and placing his hand on mine. “But, girl, how much coffee do you drink?”
“I actually didn’t have any coffee today.”
He patted my hand in this sweet way that reminded me of my grandfather. He nodded slowly trying to stifle a laugh. But there he was across from me, burly and muscular, tatted up, cool haircut, and those crazy amber-lit golden eyes. Not very grandfatherly. More like hot sex god, but I was making a concerted effort not to objectify this man.
Okay. So he was a romantic trapped in a male model’s body and I was a basket case with a nice rack and an equal amount of insecurity. He liked bumbling idiots, or at least felt some compassion for them. I liked the stone cold, brooding, bad boys—all right I totally didn’t—but Duke was growing on me. Quickly.
"I got your food," Sally, the waitress said. She gently placed Duke's plate in front of him and almost tossed mine on my lap.