Fighting Dirty - Sidney Halston Page 0,13
of his comfort zone yet again. If there was one thing she wanted to get out of this date, it was to show him who she was. If they ended up going out again, he’d know what he was getting himself into. She was the kind of woman who ate street food, who didn’t plan things, who liked to dip her feet into the water just to think. She was the kind of girl who might not be sure whether she’d be able to make rent this month, but she did make sure to stop and smell the roses every now and again—or in this particular instance, stop and grab the best-tasting hot dog in all of Florida.
“Hey, Harry.” She skipped over to the man flipping hot dogs and kissed his cheek.
The man beamed. “JL! How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in a few months.”
“I know. I’ve been busy. Harry this is my friend Enzo. Enzo, this is Harry. He makes the best hot dogs in the world.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Enzo said with a nod.
“Likewise,” Harry said. “Everything on yours, too, Enzo?”
Enzo looked at the hotdogs and the jars of “everything” and crinkled his nose.
“Yeah, give him everything, Harry,” JL answered for him.
Harry prepared two hot dogs, slathered them with all the homemade things that made up “everything,” and handed one to Enzo and the other to JL. She closed her eyes and took a huge bite of the hot dog. “Mmm. So good.”
She nudged Enzo in the ribs, and he hesitantly took a bite. He was frowning as he chewed, but the frown slowly morphed into a smile. “Oh, wow, this is really good.”
“Told ya, darlin’,” she said with a mouthful of food. “I was starved.”
“You’ve been eating this whole time. How are you starved?”
She shrugged and took another bite.
“How’s Rita these days?” Harry asked.
JL stiffened and swallowed what now felt like cement lodged in her throat. “Oh, you know,” she said with a shrug. “Rita’s Rita.” She didn’t want Enzo to ask questions. Harry nodded, sadly understanding.
“Who’s Rita?” Enzo asked, stuffing the last of the hot dog into his mouth.
“My mother.” She tossed the rest of her hot dog into the garbage, suddenly not so hungry. He looked as if he was about to ask questions, but she didn’t give him the opportunity. “You all done?”
“Uh…yeah.” He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, but JL shoved it aside.
“Harry, what do I owe you?” she asked.
“You?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Nothing, honey. Come by and visit an ol’ man once in a while, will ya?”
“Absolutely, Harry. Thanks.”
Enzo put the wallet back into his pocket and shook the old man’s hand, then followed JL into the warehouse. “How do you know him? Seems nice.”
“Yeah, Harry’s the best. Known him forever.” She leaned into the counter and asked for Miles. The girl working there left to find him.
“Who’s Miles?”
“The owner.”
“Do you know someone everywhere?”
“Not everywhere,” she said with a sassy smirk.
A man in his early thirties came around the counter, lifted her up, and spun her around. “JL, how’ve you been? Finally made it down, I see.”
“Yeah, came to redeem your offer.” She moved aside after he set her back on her feet. “This is my friend Enzo. Enzo, this is Miles.”
“Nice to meet you, man,” Miles said with a firm handshake, then turned back to JL. “You sure you’re up to it?”
“Yep.” JL practically bounced with energy. “I think.”
“How about you?” Miles asked Enzo.
Enzo looked over his shoulder to the huge open warehouse. There were rock-climbing walls with makeshift cliffs as much as forty feet high, with harnesses that hung from the ceiling.
“Absolutely. Always wanted to do this,” Enzo said, genuinely excited.
“Cool, man. Let’s get you guys all set up.”
Again Enzo took out his wallet, but again JL shooed him away. “Stop doing that.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with you paying for this. I know this is expensive, and anyway, I’m the man and I like to pay—”
“Oh, stop with that ‘I’m the man’ bullshit. I already told you—I invited you, so it’s my treat. Regardless, he owes me a favor. He’s not going to charge me.” Enzo’s full lips tightened and she noticed a tic in his jaw. “Oh, relax. It’s not whatever warped thing you’re thinking. He needed a face painter for his daughter’s birthday party last year, and I volunteered. I was there for four hours in a roomful of kids. Trust me, this is the least he can do.”
“So you’ve