Читать книгу Come Home to Me - Brenda Novak - Страница 15

7

JB’s was a traditional steakhouse with branding implements on the wood-plank walls and a bar along the right side. The interior was darker than the average restaurant, particularly in contrast to such a bright, sunny afternoon, and the candles sitting on the tables did little to offset that.

Aaron stood at the entrance for a second so his eyes could adjust. Then he spotted Cheyenne in a corner booth, looking like she was about to step in front of a firing squad. Her agitation heightened his own anxiety as the hostess hurried over from where she’d been rolling silverware into napkins. This was between meals—not a busy time of day, even on a Sunday.

“Would you like a table?” she asked.

He pointed at Cheyenne. “My party’s been seated.”

She waved him past her. “She said she was expecting someone. I left a menu for you.”

With a quick thanks, he strode across the restaurant and took the seat opposite Cheyenne, who offered him a fleeting smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” he said.

She slid his menu toward him. “Would you like to order first?”