“High school when I was in kindergarten.”
“Ew.”
“College when I was in junior year.”
“Stop now.”
“I just turned thirty.”
“And I’m still in my thirties too, so stop with the age difference. I’m not old.”
“I’m sorry for yelling at you all the time. I was projecting.”
He chuckles. “That happens to me a lot. Like, seriously a lot. Do I have a neon sign on my forehead that welcomes man-hater speeches?”
“No.”
“Do I look approachable, like I might welcome a speech about my own kind?”
“No.”
“Do I have a sign taped to my back that says I enjoy taking on everyone else’s shit? I’m a good man, Katrina; I was careful all my life not to purposely hurt women, but now I’m getting everyone else’s spill off hate.”
“No.” Bravely, I drop a hand to his shoulder and squeeze – and it definitely doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sorry we do that to you. It’s not fair.”
“You smell nice.”
“Huh?”
His eyes flare wide. “Huh?”
“What did you say?”
“What?”
“Mom! I forgot to pack lunch.”
I jump back as Mac bounds through the door with an air for the dramatic. Hot coffee splashes onto my shirt and apron, but I ignore the sting as my chuckling son helps himself to the pastry shelf and writes down what he takes so I can pay for it later.
The bell from the kitchen dings, but used to the routine and swinging by as though it was as natural as breathing, my son snags the hot plate after dropping pastries in his bag and makes his way to where I stand. With a sly grin and trouble in his eyes, he slides a burger and fries in front of Eric. “I think this is yours, Cap.”
I shoot an angry glare to the kitchen and find my giggling cook peering through the doorway. I purse my lips. “I cancelled the burger.”
Stefan shrugs and wipes his hands on a towel. “I figured it was a heat of the moment cancellation. I knew you’d regret it when you realized you’d be sending the man away while he was still hungry.”
Eric leans forward in his booth to peer around me and tosses a fry into his mouth. “I was starving. Thanks for the grub.”
“Welcome, Cap. Katrina, honey, you can take five if you want. Sit your butt down, put your feet up, relax. Everyone is fed right now, so you can take a minute and accept the dude’s offer when he asks you out for dinner.”
I turn with a gasp and glare. My face burns hot, and my stomach rolls when Eric’s hand remains on my apron, and through it all, my big, bad protector son does nothing to avenge my honor. He snickers and shoves the paper bag into his backpack. Scowling at Stefan, I ignore the man who makes my heart race, grit my teeth and mouthI’ll kill you!
My threat is real and my humiliation hot, but Stefan is one of very few men on this planet not scared of me.
Chuckling, Eric pulls me back around as soon as Mac swings out of the diner with a hollered “See ya!” and Stefan disappears back into the kitchen.
“I mean,” he clears his throat, “would you like to grab dinner with me? We could have a picnic at the lake, or something fancy at Pinocchio’s.” He flashes a sexy grin. “Your choice, my treat.”
“Umm…”