“Damn. You must spend half your life in the gym to get a body like that. What’s your secret?”
Mitch smiled to himself, knowing Gary wouldn’t believe him if he revealed it. “Just good genes.”
Back at their table, Mitch continued to feel good about himself. Without John’s influence, Mitch knew he’d have probably picked a fight with Gary as a show of dominance, but instead he’d found himself quite liking the guy.
But that will change in an instant if he so much as looks at John inappropriately.
Their food soon arrived, served by Gary, which Mitch thought odd, as most other tables had been serviced by the painfully thin guy they’d encountered on first entering.
“Enjoy, gentlemen,” Gary said, smiling at John and nodding at Mitch.
Mitch cut into his steak, which had been cooked rare, as he’d insisted. John seemed to be enjoying his pasta dish, the name of which Mitch had had to practice saying before going up to the bar to order it.
“Want to try some?” John asked.