Page 19 of Silver Edge
“Come on. Let’s feed that monster in your belly. Walter brought Chinese takeout tonight. This time, don’t throw it on the floor, okay?”
“I didn’t throw it. I’m a klutz.”
His hand slid to the small of my back. Wisps of energy fluttered up my spine. I straightened and tried not to pull away, but that was a vulnerable spot. The only spot more vulnerable was the back of my neck. I shivered just thinking about it. No one ever touched me there, not even my mother.
“By the way, you were right.”
I looked up at him, realizing after a moment that I’d made eye contact without even fidgeting. “About what?”
“The numbers. They were off. How’d you do that so quick?” He lifted a hand to direct me to go first down the stairs. I wasn’t used to such gentlemanly actions. I thought they were a myth.
“Don’t know. I was born with crazy math skills. I can pretty much compute anything in my head. I’m like a walking calculator.”
“I guess Walter’s nickname for you is appropriate, then.”
“Ah, you’ve witnessed her ninja math skills.” Hawaiian stood at the foot of the stairs. He held out a white Styrofoam box to me. I took it with trepidation and walked across the sticky floor to the torn vinyl stool and placed the box on the mahogany bar. Carefully, I slid the lip open so it didn’t make that noise, the one that always made me cringe. Drake watched my every move then copied me. Hawaiian lifted his with a loud squeal.
Two breaths later, I settled into focusing on the aroma of fried rice and chicken. “This looks so good. Where’s the fork?”
Hawaiian pointed at the narrow white package that fluttered under the vent blowing down. “No, darling. You use chopsticks for Chinese.”
“Why? I’m not from China.” I stared with disbelief as Drake peeled back the white paper, snapped the sticks apart, and handed them to me.
“Just hold them like this.” Drake maneuvered some fried rice from his container to his mouth. Amazingly, every grain found its way onto his tongue.
I gripped the chopsticks, but they just slipped past each other instead of pinching the mouthful of food between them.
“No, like this.”
He took my hand in his. A rush of energy blasted through me. My brain shut down, only focusing on his stimuli. Finally, with his help, I managed to get a few grains of rice onto the sticks and shoved it in.
“Great. At this rate, I might get a few bites down by the time we open.”
Drake pulled plastic forks from the brown bag on the stool beside him. “I guess you’ll have to take Chopstick 101 another time.”
I huffed and grabbed the fork. “How long were you gonna let him torture me?”
Drake held up both hands. “It was his idea.”
I scowled at my Polynesian pal at my side. “I thought we were tight.”
“I only tease the ones I love.” He winked. Not a flirtatious wink, more like a little-sister wink.
“You don’t want to kick the hornet’s nest, you know.” I waved the chopsticks at him.
“Should I be scared?”
I ripped open the plastic wrapper on the fork and pierced a piece of chicken. “I don’t know. How fast can you count when that register fails on you again?”
Hawaiian lowered his container to the counter and groaned. “I take it back. I take it back.”
I shoveled fried brown rice—minus the bits of egg—and snap peas into my mouth as if I hadn’t eaten in months instead of days.
“What’s wrong with the baby corns?” Hawaiian asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just wrong. Corn on the cob should be big. Not that I’d eat that, either. It’s yellow.”
“Yellow? You don’t eat yellow foods?” Drake asked, holding a bite of beef to his lips with his chopsticks.
