Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Hey, guys,” I greeted with what I hoped was a charming smile. “Welcome to the Clover.”
“Alvin, Ma, I want you to meet Trace.” Ben took over the introductions. “Trace, this is my mother Elsie and my son Alvin.”
“It’s great to meet you both. Ben talks about you all the time.” I didn’t have to worry about social customs with Alvin; he stuck out his hand in a swift, almost militant move, and I shook his hand.
“Hi. You’re Dad’s friend,” he said. “He gets annoyed when Grandma asks questions about you.”
Oh really? I flicked a glance at Ben, who chuckled.
“And now I know why,” Elsie said with a quirk of her lips. “Nice to meet you, Trace.”
I shook her hand too. “You too, Mrs. O’Cleary—”
“Oh, none of that. It’s Elsie. The Mrs. scares off potential suitors.”
All right, then! I grinned, liking her already.
“Ma, what the fuck.” Ben frowned.
Elsie looked up at her son. “What?”
“Come on,” I chuckled. “I have our table ready. Just follow me.” I turned around and headed for the main dining area, aiming for the booths in the back.
“Dad?” I heard Alvin ask quietly. “I understand it’s your birthday, but can I choose the dessert if we’re gonna share? You know how I get with cake.”
I was ready to make mental notes for future use.
“You can choose whatever you want for dessert, small fry,” Ben murmured. “I don’t think they have sponge cake on the menu anyway. You know what they do have? A hot fudge brownie with vanilla ice cream.”
“Oh. That’s one of my favorites,” Alvin whispered.
Score one for the Clover.
When I arrived at our corner, I gestured at the booth and offered to take Elsie’s jacket.
“I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of preparing some appetizers while we wait for our food,” I said. “Alvin, your old man told me you like mozzarella sticks…?”
“I do. Thank you very much.”
“No problem. Do you know what you’d like to drink, or would you like to browse the menu first?” I waited till they were all seated before I handed them the menus.
“Can I get a Fanta? With lots of ice?” Alvin glanced between Ben and me.
“Of course,” we said at the same time.
Elsie smiled and opened her menu. “Sparkling water for me, thank you.”
I turned to Ben. “Beer, hon?” Shit. That’d just slipped out. My bad.
He nodded and smirked a little. “You know what I like—but do you need a hand?”
“On your birthday? Hell no. I’ll be right back.” I made a quick escape just in case Elsie had picked up on my slip, though it didn’t seem like it. When I looked back over my shoulder, she was engrossed in the menu.
I ducked into the kitchen and let out a breath, hoping I could relax a bit now. So far, so good.
“Snacks comin’ up, boss.” Tonya had evidently already prepared the tray. “How’s it going so far?”
“I accidentally called Ben hon, but I don’t think anyone noticed.” I grabbed the tray. “Thank you—this is great.” Mozzarella sticks for Alvin, a salad bowl for the table, cheesy bread, Ben’s snack basket filled with deep-fried goodies, and some extra boneless chicken tenders.
“Looking forward to the next update!”
I chuckled and headed out once more, only stopping at the bar to get the drinks. Beer for Ben and me, sparkling water for Elsie, and Fanta with extra ice for Alvin.
Before I returned to the booth, I took a few photos of the tray so I could send them to Adam later. Our followers on Instagram would get a kick out of the joke.
I smirked and headed off, and I eyed the snack basket. One Snickers, two buffalo wings, a Twinkie, and a leftover mix of beef toppings frozen into a bar before it was dropped into the fryer. All deep-fried, all unrecognizable.
“Okay, here we go.” I set the tray on the table. “Salad, bread, and boneless chicken tenders for the table, mozzarella sticks for Alvin, and a birthday surprise for our White Sox fan.”
Ben hitched a brow. “For the record, we’re all Sox fans here.”
That was a shame, but I’d obviously assumed as much.
“I can only troll so many people at once,” I answered. “Behold, the Southpaw basket. Because like your mascot, you can’t tell what the fuck it is.”
Ben blinked.
Elsie started laughing merrily, which I took as a huge win.
Alvin scrunched his nose, then took on a curious expression. “Southpaw is a fuzzy frogillator.”
Yeah. Uh-huh. And that wasn’t a thing.
The look Ben gave his ma made it clear he couldn’t believe she was laughing at this. And then he’d slid me a look that said, “Listen here, you little shit.”
It was a good look on him.
I smiled.
I saw the amusement he was struggling to hide.
“This is banter, right, Dad?” Alvin asked to make sure.
At that, Ben turned to his boy and cracked a soft grin. “Yeah, that’s how Trace and I roll, it seems.” He glanced at me as I sat down next to Elsie. “After today, I’ll deny this for the rest of my life, but that was a good dig. Jackass.”