Not thighs, she thought. Chest, back, arms, okay, but not thighs! “Do you mind?”
He looked at her in surprise, as though unaware of what he was doing. He opened the back door of his car and stepped behind it, using it as a screen. “Didn’t mean to shock your delicate sensibilities. I didn’t want to be late to meet you, so I ran over here straight from the gym.”
Terri was holding the towel, damp with his sweat. She wanted to bury her face in it. Instead, she held it at arm’s length between thumb and forefinger. “So I noticed.”
Nate gave her a look over the top of the door as though he knew the truth. “Where do you want to eat?”
“Depends on what you want.”
“A sixteen-ounce T-bone and a potato the size of my foot. Plus a gallon of liquid.”
“I know a place.”
In minutes, Nate was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and he got in behind the steering wheel. As Terri sat beside him, he wiped his face with the towel.
“I could get you a clean one.”
“Don’t need it.”
Terri didn’t reply to that, but told him where to turn to get to the local steak house. He drove in silence, a muscle working in his jaw, his eyes glaring at the road.
“So tell me about this wicked thing.”
At first, she didn’t know what he meant. “Right. Widiwick.” When she glanced at him, she could see that he wasn’t paying attention to her. But then, she didn’t dare say what was in her mind. He looked so good she wanted to rip his clothes off. Run her tongue—She took a breath. “We paint our naked bodies green and purple and run from house to house setting off firecrackers.” His angry expression didn’t change. “Turn here.” She pointed to the left but Nate went right. “This isn’t the way. You need to turn around.”
Nate pulled into the big gravel parking lot of a two-story building with a rough wooden front. There was a sign across the front. Kale House.
“This isn’t the steak restaurant,” Terri said. “This is new and I think it’s—”
“Then we’ll eat something else here.” He got out of the car and waited for her.
Inside the restaurant, it was like stepping back into the 1970s. Tables with red-and-white-checked cloths, Chianti bottles with multicolored candle wax running down them. Peace symbols everywhere. The three young waitresses wore long skirts and long peasant blouses. Their hair was straight and flat, their feet encased in sandals that seemed to have pieces of tires as soles.
“Here’s what we have today.” A woman handed each of them a small chalkboard.
“No menu?” Nate asked.
“The food changes every day. This saves paper.” Her tone had a deep I-don’t-care vibe. She walked away without another word.
The chalk on the board was difficult to read.
“Is this...?” Nate asked.
“Everything is made with kale. Soup, salad, bread, entrée.” Terri looked at him. “The steak house is about a mile away. They have two-inch-thick sirloins. Charred on the outside, red in the center. Last year we used the peel from one of their potatoes as a canoe. And cheesecake. Real cheese.”
“Yeah?” Nate exchanged her chalkboard for his. They had different items on them.
The waitress returned, pad in hand. Her sandals were so heavy she could hardly lift her feet. On her skirt was a long string of tiny bells that jingled with her every step.
“Your mom put you in this getup?” Nate asked.
The girl grimaced. “Grandma. But it was either raid her closet or skip college. She’s paying.”
Nodding in sympathy, Nate handed her the two chalkboards. “We’ll take one of each.”
The girl didn’t so much as blink at the huge order. “With or without bacon?”
“With!?