Page 9 of Goose

He took a bite of his burger. After swallowing it, he studied the portion that remained in his hands. After seeming to drift away for a moment, he looked at me. “So, you’re a car girl?”

Changing the subject was a great idea. “I like loud things. Fast things. Nostalgic things. Groups of people that get along. Writing letters on paper. Seeing how far I can kick something. Drinking beer out of a can. Eating meat off the bone.” I sipped my milk. “It’s better that way, you know.”

He went back to studying the burger. “Beer out of a can?”

“That, too. I was meaning meat off the bone, though.”

He raised the remaining portion of his burger in agreement. “Agreed. On the meat, not the beer.”

I dismissed his beer comment as foolishness. Beer bottles thrown out on roadways punctured tires and caused wrecks. Beer cans tossed aside were collected by the homeless and turned into cash. The cash bought them food and necessities.

“One day you’ll run over a beer bottle remnant and have a blowout.” I warned. “You’ll switch to cans after that.”

He stared blankly at the table for a minute. He finished his burger. While I finished mine, he started looking around.

“Napkin?” I asked, lifting a spare napkin.

“I was looking for a menu.”

I pulled the menu from behind the condiment caddy and handed it to him. He read it. “That burger isn’t on there.”

“They make them to order,” I mumbled over a mouthful of food.

He seemed pleased. “So, you came up with that concoction?”

I wiped my mouth. “Grilled jalapenos, a slice of cream cheese, thick-cut bacon, and grass-fed beef. It’s a party in your mouth, huh?”

“Impressive.”

I smiled at the comment. “Me, or the burger?”

“Both.” He looked at my backpack. “So, are you really a thief?”

“No,” I lied. “I was just kidding. Kind of like the panties in the pocket thing. I do and say stuff sometimes that I shouldn’t. I know some pretty awesome card tricks, though.”

He grinned and gave a sharp nod.

I looked him over. He was handsome, intimidating, and cute, all at the same time. I knew that he’d eventually get up and leave, but I didn’t want him to. I preferred he stay and talk about stealing cars, riding Harleys, or how much he reminded me of James Dean.

“Did you steal that bike you were riding the other day, or is that yours?” I asked.

“It’s mine.” He glanced toward the car. His expression dulled. “I just realized something.”

“I’ve got some in my purse,” I said matter-of-factly.

His eyes narrowed. “Some what?”

“Condoms.”

He laughed. “You’re quick-witted. I like that.”

“You’re…” I hesitated, taking a second to think about what I was going to say instead of just letting my thoughts spill out of my mouth. They spilled out anyway. “You’re pretty.”

His brows went together. “Pretty?”

“You remind me of James Dean. He was pretty,” I said in my defense. “Coming from me, that’s a significant compliment, by the way.”

His brows raised. “You don’t give compliments often?”