Page 36 of Saddle Storm

“Three actually. My date and I will share a platter of barbecue wings, house salad, extra olives and . . . um . . .” He flips the menu to the kids’ side and frowns. Then hands the menu back to the waitress. “Mac and cheese, personal pizza, and . . . chicken tenders.”

My mind flashes back to days when Silas and I could swallow a bowl of fresh, hot barbecue wings. They’ve always been my favorite—especially the way Carrie made them. With a healthy dose of veggie sticks on the side we’d force-feed each other by the time we were done with the chicken. She also always made me a side dish of olives—with pretty much everything I ate there. And in case you’re wondering, no, olives don’t count as vegetables.

It takes me a moment before I realize how much food he just ordered.

“Exactly how much food do you think a nine-year-old can eat?”

“You said no Max questions, and I’d hate to start off on the wrong foot with the kid by taking the wrong guess.”

I sit back in my chair, arms loosening and falling to my lap. Speaking of first impressions. “You know he was feeling pretty silly about himself last night after meeting you.”

He frowns, leaning in like he doesn’t want to miss a word. “Why?”

“Why do you think? You’re Silas Thorne, and he was talking to you about leprechauns and rainbows instead of . . . hockey stuff.” I chuckle.

But Silas doesn’t laugh. He seems genuinely bothered by it. He glances back toward the arcade. “How do I fix it?”

I jerk. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want him to feel like that conversation didn’t mean anything to me. It was one of the better afternoons I’d had in a while.”

I smile then scrunch my nose. “I don’t think you can without letting him know I told you.”

“Right.” He sits with the thought, irritation building as he seems to reject the idea that this is something he can’t fix.

“It’s fine. He’s a kid—they don’t hold on to things like that.” Max races back to the table, gleaming. I laugh. “Besides, I don’t think you need to worry about fixing anything. Hey baby, you had fun?”

“Oh, I’m going back.” He practically guzzles his water. “Can I get an orange soda?”

I reach for his hand to grab his attention. “Slow down and mind your manners,” I hiss. “We ordered some food—but I need you to remember it’s a school night and we’re not taking advantage, all right?”

Max slumps in his seat and looks at Silas. “Sorry.”

Silas winks at my kid then tilts his head to me with a scowl. “You happy now? You ruined his fun.”

“Wh—I did not. I’m parenting.”

“Sounded more like scolding,” he has the nerve to say.

“I appreciate that you live your life carefree but here in the real world—”

“One orange soda.” Our waitress sets the drink in front of Max.

“We didn’t, when did you—”

“While you were parenting.” He grins and winks at Max again. “Maybe you should go throw a few hoops while your mom yells at me some more.”

“Mom.”

“You know I don’t yell,” I remind my kid like I need to prove something. “Especially in public.” I shoot a warning glare at Silas like there will in fact be yelling at some point.

Max turns to Silas. “You’re safe for now. But be careful, she doesn’t forget things.”

He laughs and turns to me with what he hopes is a charming grin. “Well, she forgot we were friends when we were kids,” he points out. Then shields his mouth with his fingers and whispers toward Max. “And that she had a crush on me.”

My jaw drops with a gasp. What does he think he’s doing? Max is a kid, he doesn’t need to hear that.

Our food is placed in front of us, crowding the table and giving me no room for a quick rebuttal. But what would I say? That he’s lying? That would make me the liar.