“Liza, how’s it going? And is this the new guy?” The waitress sidles up to the table.
“Carrie, good to see you. Yes, this is Crane. He’s moved into the old Smith place.”
Carrie gives a rusty laugh, one that sounds like menthols with a dash of hard liquor. “I lost my virginity in that house back in ‘88. Kyle Smith had the biggest d–”
“Carrie.” Liza clears her throat, her cheeks already turning pink. “Do you all still have that patty melt with the fresh mozzarella on it?”
“Of course. Terry can whip it up no problem.” She scribbles on her pad. “Fries?”
“Yes, please. And a root beer.”
“Got it. And for you, handsome fella?” Carrie looks at me.
“I’ll have the same, thanks.”
“Got it.” She winks at me.
Liza covers her face with her hands for a second. “Sorry about that. Carrie is … well, she’s … She’s very colorful.”
I shrug. “I was entertained. Too bad we didn’t get the full length of the story.”
“Oh my God.” She groans. “Was that a pun?”
“Maybe.” I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe the flannel shirt has sent a signal to my brain for me to morph into a corny small-town guy or something. No, I remind myself. I’m only playing a part. That’s all.
“Terrible.” She laughs and takes a sip from the root beer Carrie just delivered.
“Couldn’t help myself.” That’s the truth. Something about Liza brings out a playful side of me. “Now that we’ve covered Carrie’s history, tell me about you.”
“Me?” She takes a longer sip. “I mean, I’m kind of an open book. My mom’s the mayor. We’ve lived here all our lives. I went to school here, then college out of town but always home on the weekends. This town is my whole life.”
“You’ve never felt the itch to leave?”
“I do, but not permanently, you know? I’d love to see the world. Mom and I go on vacation somewhere new every summer. But by the end of our time, I always feel just a little homesick. When we get back, I can relax again. Everything’s comfortable and familiar.”
“So you like a thrill, but only if you can come back to home base when it’s over?”
“That’s … that’s it. Yeah.” She gives me a sheepish grin. “I’ve never really thought of it like a thrill, but I suppose you’re right. So what about you? What brought you to our little town?”
“I guess I got tired of too much thrill. I grew up in Philadelphia, then spent time working there and in Boston, along with parts in between.”
“What sort of work?” she asks.
“Consulting for large businesses. Security for high-level clients. Stuff like that.”
“Wow, really? That sounds bigtime.”
I’m not lying exactly, just not filling in all the details about how my ‘security’ work included various degrees of wet work.
“I don’t think we really need much of that around here. My mom’s door is always open, and Clark is always keeping an eye on things.”
“I’m working online now. Nothing up close and personal. It’s a nice change of pace.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” She takes another big drink of her root beer as she opens her eyes wide and stares at the table in clear embarrassment.
“I’m glad to be here, too.” I reach across the table and take her hand. “Hey, go easy. You don’t have to murder the root beer on my account.”
She releases the straw and looks at where my hand has hers. “Sorry. I guess I’ve just never … you know, done this.”
“Never had root beer before? In that case, slurp away.” I don’t let her go.
She laughs, and I’m beginning to love the sound of it. “No. I’m a home body, and I’ve never accepted a dinner date from anyone.”
“This is a date?” I sit up straighter.
When it pulls another laugh from her, I can’t help but smile.
“I didn’t mean like a date date,” she hurries to add.
“What if I did?” I squeeze her fingers. “What if I fully intended to take you out on a date tonight? That would be okay, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “It’s great, actually.”
“Food’s up.” Carrie slides our plates onto the table, and I have to pull my hand away from Liza’s.
“This looks great, Carrie.” Liza thanks her.
“Holler if you need anything.” Carrie walks to the next table to get their order.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a patty melt with mozzarella before.” I eye the sandwich and say a silent prayer that my Nonna can’t see what’s on my plate. Otherwise, she’d be rolling in her grave.
“It’s great. I mean, it sounds weird, but I promise you the cheese makes it.” She picks up half her sandwich and takes a bite. The sound that comes from her makes my cock stand at attention. “So good.”
When in Rome, I suppose. I take a bite of my own sandwich and am pleasantly surprised. It looks all sorts of wrong, but it tastes right. The cheese is perfectly melty, and the beef patty is well seasoned.