Page 43 of Third Time Lucky

LUCY

‘This is cool,’ he says as we walk through the dining area to choose our cuisine.

‘Isn’t it? We can eat, drink, and throw sharp objects safely. What’s not to love?’ I laugh. ‘What’re you in the mood for?’

‘Um…’ he glances around. ‘You like spice?’ he asks, his crooked grin is adorable.

‘Depends on the kind,’ I say flirtatiously.

The man is pretty much my every thought. Flirtatious Lucy – who has been missing for a while now – has no chance of staying hidden around him at this point.

‘For now, the chicken kind?’

Has his voice always been this captivating? I mean, my heart is hanging on his every word, dangling from the tallest building by a thread and not even a little bit afraid of falling to its death. That’s for sure new.

‘I love spicy chicken,’ I say, glancing at Ali’s hot chicken and smash burger truck, which is my favorite, alongside De La Hi Barbecue. ‘It’s what I’d usually pick. Wanna do a swap?’

He raises a single eyebrow.

‘You order from Ali’s; I’ll order from the barbecue place, and we share?’

‘My God,’ he says, looking as proud as he could. ‘You are a goddamn genius; have I ever told you that?’

‘Once before,’ I remind him, thinking of the restaurant name text thread. ‘But you used the word brilliant.’

‘I wasn’t a syllable wrong either.’ Pulling his wallet from his pants as he speaks, he tries to hand me cash, but I shake my head.

‘Nope,’ I refuse the money he’s handing me. ‘I know you said no debts owed, but considering you’re the heroic type, tonight’s on me.’

He shakes his head. ‘You owe me nothing because the pleasure was all mine.’

God, he’s sweet, and I’ve heard his conversations with Aaron. He’s a guy’s guy, but when with me, he softens into a cinnamon roll I want to unroll.

‘Effortlessly charming is what you are,’ I say, studying him admiringly.

He cocks his head. ‘See anything you like?’

A nervous giggle leaves my lips.

‘Let’s not wander down that road. Yet…’ I tease. Sort of. ‘Let’s order!’ I say, blowing past it and handing him a twenty-dollar bill.

He accepts the bill, slightly begrudgingly, with a playful wink.

‘Alright, my lady. I will meet you in ten.’ With his unhurried swagger, he heads to Ali’s hot chicken truck, and once our orders have been filled, we meet back at the seating area, sitting across from one another.

‘What’d you get?’ he asks.

‘A two-meat plate – ribs and tri-tip with beans and mac and cheese. Also, barbecue chicken nachos.’

‘Whoa, great minds,’ he says, lifting one of the two trays. ‘One Nashville Hot Chicken sandwich and fries, extra pickles. And Ali’s loaded nachos.’

I gasp. ‘Nachos! We both ordered two dishes, and each got nachos. That’s it. We’re meant to be. This seals the deal.’

‘It’s definitely a hard-to-miss sign,’ he says with a grin, passing me a fork. ‘Maybe we’re one another’s elusive soulmate.’

My jaw drops a bit. A man has never said that word to me – not one. In fact, over the last year, I’ve wondered if soulmates are as real as Bigfoot.

‘Maybe…’ I say, but only because it’s the only word I can find. Does he really feel that way about me?

Don’t overthink it, Luce. Focus on the food.

The scent of sizzling meats and aromatic spices fills the air under the canopy.

‘This smells amazing,’ I say. Once again, avoiding something romantically uncomfortable because I don’t know how to approach it yet. I’m sure it’ll come to me.

‘You’re not wrong,’ he says, rubbing his hands together eagerly. ‘Ready for this?’

I laugh, digging into the barbecue chicken nachos. The flavors explode on my tongue, and I close my eyes in delight. When I open them, he’s watching me intently.

‘Good?’

‘Meh,’ I lie. ‘You could have done it better, I bet.’ That part is not a lie.

‘Flattery, I love it.’ He cuts the burger in half, handing me part while taking his bite. ‘Shit,’ he moans, burger in one hand as he drops his head back like he’s thanking Jesus. ‘Now I gotta add a hot chicken sandwich to my menu.’

‘I’d eat your hot chicken sandwich any day.’

‘Careful with those words, Luce. You might get more than you bargained for,’ he winks as he says it, and my heart twirls.

I like flirty Asher. I like serious Asher. Hell, I liked teenage Asher. I’m in trouble. Really, really good trouble.

‘Is that a promise?’

His gaze darkens slightly, a flicker of something primal dancing in his eyes. ‘It’s a guarantee I’d gladly sign,’ he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

The air crackles with electric tension as we continue to share the meal, our conversation flowing easily and comfortably. The food is exquisite; each bite’s a symphony of flavors, leaving us both satisfied and eager for more.

The sun dips below the horizon as the evening wears on, casting a warm golden glow over our table.

The soft flicker of string lights above us adds to the magical ambiance of the moment.

It’s almost like the venue knew this would probably become a core memory for both of us, as I suspect it will, just like the bubble dance and drive-in have been.

‘Ready to throw some axes?’ I ask as soon as I start to regret not wearing the leggings.

‘Yes, I am,’ he replies, standing up and brushing off any crumbs from his clothes.

We make our way over to the axe-throwing area, caged in for safety purposes because ‘people be crazy’ according to the waiver we signed as we paid for our time. I don’t disagree.

‘Want to go first?’ he asks.

‘Nope. I’ve got no idea how to throw an axe, so I want to watch you first, so I don’t embarrass myself. I’m trying to impress you.’

He grins – grabbing his axes before taking a stance in front of the target.

‘I’ve been impressed for a while now,’ he says casually. With a flick of his wrist, he sends his axe spinning through the air, embedding it solidly into the wood bullseye with a sharp crack.

‘I like how you worked that in like you’re a freaking pro. And you hit the target!? Good Lord,’ I say. ‘Promise me you’re not keeping score because my axe will never land in the red like yours. That I can almost guarantee.’

‘You don’t know until you try it,’ he says, handing me an axe.

‘Just aim for the middle and don’t let go until your hand is almost level with it.

’ He’s got a hand on mine as he stands behind me – like every breath-holding romance movie moment I’ve ever seen where a man teaches the love interest how to do something – and swings my hand downward, stopping when it’s in line with the bullseye. ‘Right there.’

Do you hear that? I think my loins have just joined the chat. Crapola, that was hot.

‘Got it,’ I say, as if I’ve actually got anything at this moment.

When he steps away, his gaze lingers, and I love it. I swing the way he showed me a couple of times, then, with a deep breath, I pull my arm back and let it fly, watching as it spins through the air. To my surprise, it lands with a satisfying thunk in the ring just outside the center.

‘See!’ he exclaims – immensely proud of me. ‘You’re a natural.’ He rests his hand on my shoulder while kissing the top of my head.

The urge to pull him to me and taste him is real right now. But I’m a lady, and ladies do not maul men in public – at least this one doesn’t.

‘Dude—’

We turn suddenly to the voice outside the cage. Ash’s jaw drops as he glances my way and then back at him. What on earth is he doing here?