does to remember someone’s name like that. It’s all about making things feel personal.”
Mikey smiled and opened his menu. “Well, it sure impressed me.”
He’d told himself he wouldn’t pay any attention to the prices. Cory had insisted it would be his and Jimmy’s treat, and they would know what was in their price range. But he couldn’t help his reaction to the numbers along the right side of each page. Jesus, he could buy a textbook for what they charged for pasta.
He shook his head and concentrated on the descriptions. Everything looked good, but Jimmy had mentioned the manicotti specifically, so Mikey decided he’d do that. It fell about halfway down the price range on the menu too, so it wouldn’t stand out as being particularly cheap or pricey.
A tall, slim woman with dark curly hair and olive skin approached. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Nina, and I’ll be serving you this evening. Would you like to start off with a bottle of wine or something from the bar?”
“Wine would be excellent,” Jimmy said. “We’ll take a bottle of your house merlot, and could you start us off with the antipasti?”
“Absolutely.” Nina smiled, and Mikey noted she didn’t have an order pad. “I’ll have that out to you shortly and will be back to take your order. Did you have any questions about the menu?”
After they assured her they didn’t, she disappeared again, and Jimmy leaned toward Mikey. “They have a sommelier on staff, but he mostly chooses the wines, rather than serving them. Their house wines have always been excellent.”
What Mikey knew about wines could fit on a postage stamp, but clearly Jimmy knew what he was talking about. “I don’t drink wine often,” Mikey admitted. “I don’t drink a lot at all. I never really got in the habit.” He shrugged. “I can’t stand beer, and that’s what most people had when I was younger. Or Boone’s Farm.”
Jimmy laughed at that. “Boone’s Farm is a teenaged rite of passage. Along with cheap beer and smokes.” He gave Mikey a side-eye. “You didn’t pick up that nasty habit, did you?”
“Smoking?” Mikey made a face at the memory and shook his head. “Tried it when I was fourteen. Tasted like something died.”
“Good description.” Jimmy sighed. “I did it for five years because I was stupid and thought it made me look cool. I got over it. Though I’ll still pick up a stogie now and then.”
“Cigars are different,” Cory put in. “Well, I mean, the smell and all. They’re still bad for you, but one now and then isn’t going to kill you any more than eating an occasional cheeseburger.” He turned his attention back to his menu. “Or pasta with cream sauce and enough cheese to choke a horse. I do love their spinach and mozz ravioli.”
“And everything else on the menu,” Jimmy shot back, though he tempered the tease with a soft smile. Cory caught his gaze and returned the look, full of emotion, and Mikey’s heart ached at that tenderness. So much of the time, Cory and Jimmy spent their time together exchanging jabs and jokes—all meant in fun, of course. But they were clearly on their best, most romantic behavior for the date, and that extended to each other, not just to Mikey.
Jimmy turned that smile on Mikey, and he felt it in his stomach—and points south. “What looks good, honey?” Jimmy asked, and Mikey could only think you .
“I… I was thinking about the manicotti,” he choked out around the lump in his throat. “You said it’s amazing.”
“It is.” Jimmy moved as if he were going to touch Mikey but then pulled back, though his smile drifted toward the dirtier end of the scale. “Lots of garlic, but that’s okay. Everything they serve has lots of garlic, so don’t worry about your breath. We’ll all taste like it.”
The sensual promise behind his words went directly below Mikey’s belt, bypassing both his brain and his heart. Jesus. Between the romantic touches and the sexual
Mikey smiled and opened his menu. “Well, it sure impressed me.”
He’d told himself he wouldn’t pay any attention to the prices. Cory had insisted it would be his and Jimmy’s treat, and they would know what was in their price range. But he couldn’t help his reaction to the numbers along the right side of each page. Jesus, he could buy a textbook for what they charged for pasta.
He shook his head and concentrated on the descriptions. Everything looked good, but Jimmy had mentioned the manicotti specifically, so Mikey decided he’d do that. It fell about halfway down the price range on the menu too, so it wouldn’t stand out as being particularly cheap or pricey.
A tall, slim woman with dark curly hair and olive skin approached. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Nina, and I’ll be serving you this evening. Would you like to start off with a bottle of wine or something from the bar?”
“Wine would be excellent,” Jimmy said. “We’ll take a bottle of your house merlot, and could you start us off with the antipasti?”
“Absolutely.” Nina smiled, and Mikey noted she didn’t have an order pad. “I’ll have that out to you shortly and will be back to take your order. Did you have any questions about the menu?”
After they assured her they didn’t, she disappeared again, and Jimmy leaned toward Mikey. “They have a sommelier on staff, but he mostly chooses the wines, rather than serving them. Their house wines have always been excellent.”
What Mikey knew about wines could fit on a postage stamp, but clearly Jimmy knew what he was talking about. “I don’t drink wine often,” Mikey admitted. “I don’t drink a lot at all. I never really got in the habit.” He shrugged. “I can’t stand beer, and that’s what most people had when I was younger. Or Boone’s Farm.”
Jimmy laughed at that. “Boone’s Farm is a teenaged rite of passage. Along with cheap beer and smokes.” He gave Mikey a side-eye. “You didn’t pick up that nasty habit, did you?”
“Smoking?” Mikey made a face at the memory and shook his head. “Tried it when I was fourteen. Tasted like something died.”
“Good description.” Jimmy sighed. “I did it for five years because I was stupid and thought it made me look cool. I got over it. Though I’ll still pick up a stogie now and then.”
“Cigars are different,” Cory put in. “Well, I mean, the smell and all. They’re still bad for you, but one now and then isn’t going to kill you any more than eating an occasional cheeseburger.” He turned his attention back to his menu. “Or pasta with cream sauce and enough cheese to choke a horse. I do love their spinach and mozz ravioli.”
“And everything else on the menu,” Jimmy shot back, though he tempered the tease with a soft smile. Cory caught his gaze and returned the look, full of emotion, and Mikey’s heart ached at that tenderness. So much of the time, Cory and Jimmy spent their time together exchanging jabs and jokes—all meant in fun, of course. But they were clearly on their best, most romantic behavior for the date, and that extended to each other, not just to Mikey.
Jimmy turned that smile on Mikey, and he felt it in his stomach—and points south. “What looks good, honey?” Jimmy asked, and Mikey could only think you .
“I… I was thinking about the manicotti,” he choked out around the lump in his throat. “You said it’s amazing.”
“It is.” Jimmy moved as if he were going to touch Mikey but then pulled back, though his smile drifted toward the dirtier end of the scale. “Lots of garlic, but that’s okay. Everything they serve has lots of garlic, so don’t worry about your breath. We’ll all taste like it.”
The sensual promise behind his words went directly below Mikey’s belt, bypassing both his brain and his heart. Jesus. Between the romantic touches and the sexual
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