Guy shrugged. “I know somebody.”
“Yeah?” I glanced out the window, then back at Guy. Was he blushing?
“Yeah, the chef and I go way back.” He acted a little embarrassed, like he didn’t want to brag.
Since I probably hadn’t heard of the chef anyway, why did he care? I was impressed with the setting. If the food was as delicious as the smell surrounding us, I was in heaven.
“You and the cook go way back?” I asked.
“To grade school.” He gave a little huff of a laugh. “We may even have been friends before then.”
The waiter, a teenage boy, stood at Guy’s shoulder. He glanced at us and down at our entwined fingers. His face turned beet red before he looked away quickly.
“Can I get you a drink, Mr. Stone?”
“Yeah, Zack. I’ll have a beer. Whatever you’ve got on tap.” He looked up at the kid and grinned. “My boyfriend here’ll have a white wine. Whatever Adam suggests.”
Now the teen was really staring at me. He turned back to Guy with a huge grin.