Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,63

each other. Now we have to walk away to keep from tearing each other’s clothes off.

Under the faint gleam of a half moon, he smiles. It’s brighter than all the stars in the sky.

“Sounds perfect.”

sixteen

When I walk into Three Happiness Express, I spot Tate at a small table for two in the back. This local dive is apparently his favorite place for Chinese food. I wind through the haphazard configuration of tables and chairs, and take the seat across from him.

“You made it.” He points to my left hand. “Snack time?”

Heat climbs up my face when I hand the loaf of Ezekiel bread to him.

“You’ve given me so much fruit, and I love it. I wanted to give you something too.” I recall how quickly I devoured the perfectly ripe papaya after I raced home from work to clean up for dinner.

But now before him with a loaf of bread, my nerves are shot. “Bread as a gift. What the hell was I thinking?”

His mouth scrunches between a purse and a smile. “Stop. I like it. Thank you.” He handles it with care, like it’s made of glass. “How did you know this is my favorite bread?”

“You eat the same turkey sandwich every single day. It was easy to figure out.”

His half smile reads amused. “What else have you figured out?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that you rarely drink anything other than water. It’s all I ever see you guzzle. You’re the only person that Perry doesn’t dare confront. Must be nice, by the way. And you’re a loner to the core. Striking up casual conversations is a no-go. You only talk to people when they ask you questions or you need clarification. You grind your teeth when you’re annoyed or angry.”

Wrinkles crease his forehead when his brow lifts. “How do you know that?”

“Your jaw bulges every single time.”

“Anything else?”

“Deep down, under that bulletproof facade, you care. It’s why you got Brett fired, why you helped me at the rock climbing gym, and why you took care of me at the hospital.”

“Damn.” Blushing, he runs a hand through his curls. They’re perfectly tousled when he lets go.

And there it is once more. A crack through his hard exterior. More proof that the guy who pretends to be an industrial-strength jerk on the surface is actually a sweet and endearing mush on the inside.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I swear, I haven’t been stalking you.”

“It’s okay.” His face resumes the confident, knowing expression I’ve seen so many times. “I’ve noticed a few things about you too.”

I recall how he shared his observations about me in the hospital. Before I can comment, a baby-faced server delivers two glasses of water to our table along with menus. I thank him, then fixate on the specials. I gaze around the restaurant. It’s bustling for a weeknight with loads of other diners. People dart in and out to pick up to-go orders. The local news channel blares from the TV mounted in the corner. The decor is tacky as all get-out with laminate tabletops that haven’t been replaced since the early ’80s and red-and-white-tile walls reminiscent of a public restroom.

“I really know how to woo a lady, don’t I? Look at this place.” He focuses back on his menu.

“You’ve already done some excellent wooing with those evening cuddles and surprise fruit deliveries.” He looks away before smiling, and my heart slides back to my chest. “I love it. This place reminds me of all the dive Chinese food restaurants my mom used to take my sister and me to on the Big Island. No frills, but food so good you don’t care.”

“Really?”

I nod. “Instant nostalgia the moment I walked in.”

“The food here is the best.”

“I’m getting peanut butter chicken. What about you?”

“Either Szechuan tofu or sesame beef.” He closes the menu and rests his chin on his palm.

“Wow. That’s pretty unhealthy for someone who eats the same organic turkey sandwich every day for lunch.” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Now that I have a huge loaf of Ezekiel bread, I can make all the organic sandwiches I want, which should offset this meal.”

The server returns, and we order. Tate surprises me by requesting both the tofu and sesame beef.

“You are quite the glutton,” I remark before sipping my water.

“Leftovers from here are the best. You can take mine home.”

“Did I say glutton? I meant to say generous fellow.” His mouth curves into a full smile. A burst of pride hits me for getting

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