She offered him a tiny smile. “Could you just try it and give me your opinion? I didn’t add a whole wheat bun. It’s a potato roll.” The smile inched wider. “Surely that should count for something.” She lifted the chicken sandwich with the bun, held it out for him to taste. “Just one bite, that’s all I ask. If you give it a thumbs down, I’ll scratch it from the menu.”
Nick let out a sigh. Delilah was not going to quit until he tasted the damn thing. He leaned toward the sandwich. “You mean the menu that wasn’t supposed to have this on it, but does?”
Another smile, a nod. “Yes, that one.”
“Ah, so that’s why you were so anxious to handle the printing.” She didn’t respond, but the faint pink covering her cheeks said his assumption was correct. He should just refuse, tell her a deal was a deal and that meant no hidden agendas or adding her own interpretation. But he couldn’t. The hopeful expression made him open his mouth and taste what she offered. Sweet, tangy, with a hint of spice. Nick savored the flavors, thought of the patrons who might actually enjoy it with a cold beer and a side of coleslaw or potato salad. Yeah, he could picture that. He met her gaze, fell into those honey-brown eyes, and took another bite.
“Good?”
His gaze landed on her lips, slid to the V-neck of her T-shirt, then inched back to her eyes. He nodded, stepped back, and cleared his throat. “Good. We’ll try this one.”
“Thank you,” she said in a breathy voice. “Your support means a lot.”
Get a grip. Don’t be a fool. She’d only hurt you all over again. He shrugged, took another step away from the woman who’d crushed his soul six years ago. “It’s only a sandwich. No big deal.”
But it was so much more than that, even if he didn’t want to admit it. And one look at Delilah told him she knew it, too.
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