Page 68 of Matchmaking On The Menu

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Open it.”

When he does, his entire face changes.

“That’s—”

“Country fried steak,” I say, calm and composed. “Double fried. Extra mash. Extra gravy. And broccoli with enough butter to make a cardiologist nervous.”

“That’s exactly how I order it.”

“I know. I also packed some cutlery.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“You’re manipulating me,” he says.

“I prefer the term influencing,” I correct.

He huffs a laugh despite himself and takes a bite, closes his eyes. And that’s it. I’ve won.

“All right,” he says around a mouthful. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” I clap my hands once. “I’ll drop the bike off Sunday morning.”

He nods, still chewing, already halfway gone to another plane of existence thanks to gravy.

I lean casually on the counter. “Since we’re doing this… do you want help drafting that email?”

He gestures vaguely with his fork. “Mm—yeah. That’d be—mm—good.”

“Perfect,” I say, moving behind the counter. “Let’s make this official.”

He’s halfway through the meal, fully committed, when I slide the keyboard a little closer.

“Okay,” I say, finishing up the last line of the email. “That should do it.”

Perfect. Time for phase three. I pull out my phone and hit call.

Dannica answers on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Hi! Quick favor?”

A pause. “Why does that sound like it’s going to inconvenience me?”

“Wow. The lack of trust.”

“Shelly.”

“Okay, rude but fair. I need to have a poster printed, but it’s only going to be ready during your shift on Sunday. Can you pick it up for me between three and five?”

“Why that specific timeframe?”

I glance at the screen, finger hovering over the send button.

“Because of the happy hour special,” I say casually. “Three to five.”

“There’s a happy hour special?”