“So,” he says, taking a quick breath like people do when they’re about to change the subject, “has Joe been showing you the ropes?”
I laugh and he smiles again. When I see the way it lights up his eyes, I want to make him smile forever. “He’s a little odd,” I say, lowering my voice. I know Joe’s listening on the other side of the counter. I almost expect him to growl and say he heard me, but he doesn’t.
Deon laughs, a smile pulling at his lips again, and I take another bite of my sandwich because I want to kiss him, taste him, feel him in my mouth, not this bread and pastrami and mayonnaise. “He’s a little hard to take sometimes,” Deon admits, leaning closer like he’s going to tell me a secret.
I can smell the fresh scent of his shampoo curl beneath the greasy stench of the grill. I bre
