Page 64

Story: The Match

“Nope. I take after Bella, or I guess Bella takes after me. I’m a beignet guy.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Never really got the hype around beignets.”

He cocked a brow. “Really?”

I shrugged. “Yep. Not my poison. Mine are these.”

The vendor sliced each of the three bagels in half before putting them in the carton. We grabbed it and our coffees and walked out, making space for others waiting in line—which had gotten longer.

There were a few tables in front of the bakery. No one was really sitting down because this was more of a take-out type of place, but Zachary and I snagged a table.

“The difference is in the toppings,” I explained. “Cocoa, walnut, and pistachio.”

“Pistachio cream cheese? All right. Not my favorite.”

“I thought so, too, but it’s actually really good.”

“Then I’ll start with that one,” Zachary said. “That’s how much I trust you.”

I handed him the one he’d requested, and he took a bite.

“Not bad,” he said, but clearly he wasn’t impressed.

I, on the other hand, savored mine in very small bites. I only drank my coffee after eating so as not to spoil the taste.

“My favorite treat,” I murmured.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

I glanced at the time on my phone. “Hmm, I wonder if Mom would like me to drop by for lunch.”

He frowned. “I was banking on more time with you.”

“Oh, okay.” I smiled, but suddenly, I was feeling a bit nervous. Now that we didn’t have any food to share, I wasn’t sure what we wanted to do.

“What do you typically do on Saturdays?” I asked him.

“It depends. I sometimes go with my grandfathers out in the bayou to fish. Although, I’ve been skipping that lately, probably because my dad’s been offering to go.”

“Everyone in your family like to fish?”

“No, just the grandfathers. The rest of us take turns going so we can keep an eye on them. The conversation with them is always good. Other times, I just hook up with some friends and play tennis. But they didn’t arrange anything for this weekend. Even the most expensive tennis courts are booked into the next century.”

“Playing tennis in this heat,” I said, shuddering.

Zachary touched my leg under the table. “Only very early in the mornings.”

“Define very early.”

“Seven o’clock.”

I practically felt my jaw drop. “On a Saturday?”

“I know. I can sacrifice some sleep for tennis.”

He shifted in his chair, and I didn’t realize what he was doing until he moved next to me. Feeling the warmth of his body was enough to make me happy. How surreal was that?

“I only sacrifice sleep for work,” I said.