“That place up there serves good food,” she said, pointing to a restaurant just ahead.
“They have chicken?”
“Yes.”
“Baked?”
“Yes, and it’s pretty good. It’s nice to meet a man who doesn’t have to eat fried chicken. All that grease isn’t good for you.”
He decided not to tell her that all that grease was what he wanted, but he’d been sentenced to a life without it for a while. “Will you stop and have dinner with me?”
When she came to another traffic light, she settled her gaze on his, and he knew she was trying to make her mind up about whether she would join him for dinner. “Come on, you’ve got to eat some time,” he coaxed.
Another smile touched her lips. “I had a big lunch, but I do know for a fact that restaurant makes a dynamite salad.”
He couldn’t imagine anyone just having a salad for a meal, but he said anyway, “Okay, then what are we waiting for?”
She eased the truck into the turning lane and laughed. “Not one single thing. Besides, I’m curious as to how you got Marcella Jones to go along with those surcharges.”
For a Tuesday night the place was crowded, but fortunately, enough waitresses were working the tables and within a few minutes Jocelyn and Bas had been seated.
“Um, I can just smell the fried chicken,” Bas said, inhaling the air and licking his lips.
Jocelyn raised a brow. “I thought you were getting baked.”
“I am.” He took a sip of coffee before picking up his menu.
“So how did you do it?” Jocelyn asked, glancing over her own menu. She wondered why she was bothering to look at it since she knew exactly what she wanted. But then looking at the menu meant she didn’t have to look at Bas, because looking at Bas made her insides sizzle. Something about the restaurant’s lighting made him that much more eye-droppingly handsome. She couldn’t help noticing that the waitresses were definitely checking him out.
“How did I do what?”
His question reeled in her thoughts. “Get Marcella to cooperate.”
Blowing out a breath he said, “Trust me, it wasn’t easy.”
“So how did you do it?” she asked again.
Bas decided it was best Jocelyn didn’t know all the gory details. Just like Sadie, Marcella had remembered him from those summers long ago. She was brazen as hell and had actually told him how turned on she used to get seeing him shirtless, and she more than hinted that she would like to see him without his shirt again, or his pants.
He had remained professional and had told her in a nice way he wasn’t interested in undressing for her and that their only business was the building of her house. She hadn’t appreciated her sexual advances being turned down and had tried being difficult. He had refused to let her get on his last nerve, and had finally said since the two of them couldn’t see eye to eye he would deal with her husband. Evidently, she’d gotten concerned that Bas would mention her less than estimable behavior to Mr. Jones, and decided to cooperate.
“At first she wasn’t having any of what I said, so I told her I would discuss the situation with her husband. In the end, let’s just say Marcella Jones and I decided it was best to keep her husband out of it.”
Jocelyn’s lips quirked. “She came on to you, didn’t she?”
He lifted a brow. “Why would you think that?”
Jocelyn chuckled. “Because I know Marcella. Over the years I’ve heard the rumors. She came on to Reese when we were building her first house and he had to put her in her place. Unfortunately for her it was during the time Reese had sworn off all women. We were surprised she came to us to build another house for her. Rumor has it that she likes them young.”
Bas took another sip of coffee. “She can’t be that old.”
“Try forty-five.”
Bas blinked at her. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. I admit she wears her age well. Most people take her to be ten years younger at least.”
At that moment the waitress, who was all but drooling while looking at Bas, came back to take their orders. “I’ll have a chef’s salad,” Jocelyn said, closing the menu.