“I brought you a triple cheese grilled cheese,” Ben said, his mind still turning over the fact that she was thirty-five. That was even older than Sam. With a bolt of realization as hot and fast as lightning, Ben worried that she’d be more interested in Sam than him.
“From Harry’s?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He passed her the paper-wrapped sandwich, along with a bag of French fries. “He said you liked the sweet potato fries.”
“So you asked him what I liked.” She unwrapped the sandwich, looking up at him from under her lashes.
“Of course,” he said. “I didn’t want to show up with something you’re allergic to or whatever.” Ben squirmed on the inside but made sure his muscles didn’t so much as twitch—something he’d seen Sam do when he talked to women. He seemed so cool, so collected. Ben tri
