“Oh, not at all. I—uh . . .” I stuttered and looked around to find that the ranchers had just taken residence at the last table and a group of tittering ladies were heading out to the patio.
“Rack of ribs, burnt-end special for Luke, and a side of onion rings and slaw,” Clay hollered.
Blue-Eyes stood at the call, proving his name was Luke. I tried not to stare, but he was well over six feet and made an imposing figure in the low-ceilinged barbeque joint. He wore carpenter jeans and hiking boots with a moss-green, V-neck tee that accentuated his muscular build.
“Why don’t you sit down? There’s room for both of us.” Luke thumbed toward the booth.
“Are you sure?”
That smile appeared again as he nodded. “Definitely.”
The booth could comfortably fit four, so I considered his offer. I turn
