Chapter 17
Dean shifted in his seat. Damn booths. Too small for someone his size. He cast a wistful glance at the central tables. There, a man could sprawl. Let his nuts air a little. The booth offered more privacy for quiet conversation so he’d picked one the moment he invited Lillian to join him for a drink, a decision he regretted now. The booth added to his discomfort.
The Mixer tended to be busy, but this early, the tables weren’t even a quarter full. Three men stood at the U-shaped bar, other patrons took up half a dozen tables, and four couples sat in booths. Dean—the one person seated alone—surveyed the other customers before gazing out the window. The light-hued wooden decor gave the restaurant a country atmosphere blended with touches of cowboy western, and welcoming home fires
