Page 69 of The Player's Club
Vinnie held up his hands, a wide grin on his face. “Whatever you say, boss.” He handed me and Mac two very well-used menus and went to greet more patrons.
I chuckled. “Who was that?”
“The owner. He and his wife, Ramona, took over this place a few years ago from the previous owner. I also might’ve lent him some money to keep things afloat.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You know them that well?”
“Kind of. Vinnie is a friend of a friend. Mostly, I loved this place so much that I hated that it might go under.”
Now, I was intrigued. If this place was so impressive that Mac was willing to give the owners money, it must be worth trying. Mac ordered for us both, assuring me that I’d love it.
It didn’t take long for our food to be brought out: crispy, perfectly golden chicken wings with a spicy peanut butter and jelly sauce. Alongside were french fries and onion rings and an assortment of other dipping sauces.
“Peanut butter and jelly wings?” I picked one up, intrigued. “That could either be incredible or terrible.”
“They’re fucking out of this world.” Mac bit into his own wing and groaned.
I took a bite, and the taste of the salty but spicy peanut butter and the sweet jelly, combined with the crispy breading and moist chicken, was like heaven on Earth. I’d had my fair share of chicken wings—LA was famous for some fantastic chicken-and-waffle joints—but this?
“Okay, I get why you gave Vinnie money.” I took another bite, quickly inhaling one wing and starting on another.
I didn’t even care that my fingers soon were covered in sauce or that Mac reached over to wipe sauce from the side of my mouth. I didn’t worry that Mac would judge me for having a healthy appetite.
When I’d first started dating Todd way back in high school, I didn’t eat real food in front of him. Stupid, I know. But when we went out, I’d only order salads or tiny cups of soup. It got to the point that Todd asked me if I thought he couldn’t afford to pay for a real dinner.
I’d fessed up and told him I was embarrassed to eat too much in front of him. He’d said I was being ridiculous. After that, I’d ordered more substantial meals. But even then, I never would’ve eaten wings like this with him. Todd had always been a stickler for eating healthy, especially as an adult.
I bit into the last onion ring and sighed happily. “You really outdid yourself,” I said.
Mac grinned. “I’d take the credit, but I can’t. I just know a great spot when I see one. Or taste one.”
He then leaned toward me, his eyes heated. “And can I just say how fucking sexy you look, eating chicken wings?”
I burst out laughing. I didn’t feel sexy. I was stupidly full, my fingers were greasy, and I barely restrained myself from belching after drinking a large Coke.
“You have a strange idea of sexy,” I replied.
“Seeing a woman enjoying herself? That’s always sexy. You know I just want you to enjoy yourself, right?”
I shivered at the look in his eyes. Fortunately for my stomach, the drive back to his place was long enough to digest all that spectacular food, although I found myself getting lulled to sleep as the sun went down.
I felt a gentle hand on my arm. “Elodie, we’re home.”
Although we were at Mac’s, the words we’re home resonated with me. His house had become comfortingly familiar. I’d even left a few toiletries there. Seeing my toothbrush in his bathroom made it seem like our relationship was serious.
Which is just silly of me, I thought. A toothbrush is just for convenience, nothing more.
“Oh, did I fall asleep?” I yawned, feeling sheepish. “I’m so sorry.”
“Food coma. It happens to the best of us.”
Before I knew what he was doing, Mac opened the passenger door of his car and lifted me out. I protested, even as a thrill went through me.
“I can walk!” I exclaimed.
Mac carried me into the house like I weighed nothing more than a feather. “But I like you in my arms,” he said.
He placed me on the living room couch and then got me a sparkling water, which was what I usually drank. He sat down next to me, his arm around me, his warmth making my heart beat fast.