Page 48 of Stolen Voices

How have I never been here?

“You wouldn’t be the first.” With a knowing smirk, Eli answers what I thought was a silent question as we get in line.

I pull the brim of the hat lower, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I can feel his eyes on me like a heated caress blanketing my body. As best as I can, I ignore the way my nerves tingle along the surface of my skin and focus on my surroundings. Not the sexy man making my body go haywire with his larger-than-life presence.

It’s our turn to approach the long, refrigerated deli counter filled with sides, pies, and garnishes. I see bags of chips on the counter, a weird jar filled with purple juice, and white … eggs?

“What in the—” I point at the jar.

“Pickled eggs. Want to try one?” I make a face, and Eli laughs. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Definite no. But…” My head bounces back and forth at the menu, and the food displayed before me. Everything looks amazing, and my stomach growls again. “There is no way I can decide on what to try first.”

“I got you.” Eli orders our food like a professional.

He pays the woman behind the counter—dressed in a cute, vintage diner uniform—and she gets to work. She’s incredibly fast as she pulls out a brown tray, slaps it on the counter, and then fills it with our order until it’s overflowing with food.

“Follow me.” Eli grabs the tray and leads me through the restaurant.

It’s a relief when no one bothers looking my way. Everyone is too busy enjoying their meals and each other’s company to notice me.

I follow Eli up a flight of stairs. At the top is a smaller, more intimate dining room with white walls and similarly old furniture.

Eli places our food on a table at the far back, away from the other diners, then pulls out a stool across from me.

“Okay.” He points at various dishes as he rattles off what he ordered for me to try. There’s potato salad, a bowl of chili with shredded cheddar cheese, lemon meringue pie, and dill pickles. “And this is the roast beef sandwich you never knew you were craving.”

“Is it now?” I smile, loving this softer side of Eli.

His guard is down, and he’s stashed the professional façade he always wears away. This is the real Eli.

“Without a doubt. But you need a little of this specialty mustard first.” He lifts the top crusty bread and lathers it with a layer of the condiment before sliding it over to me. “Now, try.”

I lift the sandwich and inhale the savory scent of meat before taking a big bite. The bread is both crispy and light, the sliced beef melts in my mouth, and the combination of the salty meat and the spicy horseradish mustard is an explosion of flavor. I hum in approval as I chew and swallow, going back for another bite.

“Good, right?” Eli bites into his sandwich, digging into his meal.

“So good,” I agree. I place the food down and lick the juice from my thumb before grabbing a napkin and wiping my hands.

I glance at Eli, frozen mid-bite with his sandwich in the air. He looks like he’s in pain.

My instincts kick in as I reach across the table and grab his arm. “Eli, are you okay?”

His pupils are wide, and the eye with the golden-brown spot in the blue-green depths of his iris gleams at me again. The heat in his gaze lasts longer than it ever has between us, the seconds stretching. The unmistakable desire I feel for him snakes up my spine and furls in my belly. The air shifts between us, and sparks shoot through my hand where it lies on his body.

As much as I want Eli to lean across the table and kiss me, now isn’t the right time. He deserves to have all the information should we take that step. I slowly slide my hand down his arms and back across the table.

A look of disappointment flashes across his face before he takes a bite of food, in a not-so-subtle attempt to disregard what just happened between us. Brushing my hair behind my ear, I do the same and reach for the potato salad. I shove a forkful in my mouth.

We eat through the tray of food, making small talk about the tour.

“Okay, I have to give it to you. The food is delicious.” I toss my napkin on the table and take a deep breath. “And now, I’m full.”

“I’m glad you liked it. My dad used to bring us here before heading up the hill to the stadium, where we’d watch Evaders’ games. It was one of my favorite things to do as a kid.”

I tilt my head to the side, picturing a young Eli—with his mismatching eyes shining bright and a dimple on his cheek—as he jokes around with his brothers. I can see it. A more playful Eli. All laughs and teasing.

“What happened?”