Page 4 of The Matchmaker Club

“Still not interested.”

“You’re crazy. If I weren’t with Ben, I’d be all over that.”

I shook my head. “You know Ben is right behind you, right?”

Ben’s arms were crossed tightly against his massive chest, his eyes burning dark, and I caught a hint of hurt in them before he walked out the back door, slamming it behind him.

“Crap.” Thelma pulled out her ponytail and let her dark brown hair fall around her shoulders. “I think it’s time we made up.”

Oh no.

“And who is going to cook?”

“Ernie will be here in five. Don’t worry.”

But I did worry. Ernie was a senior in high school and not the most reliable cook we had.

I walked out to find the two men sitting in Charlie’s usual seat. Thelma wasn’t lying—they were both handsome. The married one looked like he could be Terrence Howard’s brother. The other had dark hair and eyes and pale olive skin, like he didn’t see much sunlight.

I grabbed two menus, and the unmarried one’s gaze caught mine before I approached. At first, I stumbled a bit, taken off guard. This man was young, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, although he seemed so much older. He oozed confidence, but it was his stare that was so intimidating. I felt like he could dissect my very soul if he wanted to.

I placed the menus in front of them. “Hi, I’m Taylor.” I beamed out a smile. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Hi, Taylor.” Terrence’s look-alike greeted me warmly, and I relaxed a little more. “I’ll have a club soda with a lime.”

“Sure.” I looked over at the other man. His stare was so intense that it was beginning to make me uncomfortable. “And you?”

“Soda water with lemon, please.”

“Great, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

I headed out back, thankful Ernie was throwing on his apron. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

“From the sounds coming from the shed out back, I’d say Ben and Thelma made up.”

“Seriously? They couldn’t wait ’til they got home?”

“Hey, nothing wrong with a little lovin’ at work.” Ernie raised his eyebrows a few times in my direction.

I playfully slapped him with my hand towel. “You don’t speak to your elders like that.”

“We’re only six years apart,andI’m legal now.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Not happening. Ever.”

He shrugged. “Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.”

I cut up a fresh lemon and lime before plopping a couple slices into their soda waters.

Doing my best to ignoreMr. Intensity, I placed the drinks down on their coasters. The nice one smiled and thanked me, while Mr. Intensity glared down at the extra-large cup and then back up at me. “Do you have anything smaller than this monstrosity? Something that isn’t plastic, perhaps?”

Oh great. He’s one ofthose.

“We have pint glasses for beer or wine glasses. But if you prefer, I can give you a kiddie cup if this is too much for you to handle.”

The nice one tried to hold back a chuckle as he looked through the menu. Mr. Intensity’s jaw shifted, and he pushed the soda water in my direction. “A wine glass will be fine. No ice.” He gave me some kind of stare-down before he went back to his menu.

Geez, what crawled up his butt this morning?