me," I said to Ben.
I snuck through the crowd until I stood on the other side of the pillar from my sisters. Leaning forward, I began to watch them and eavesdrop.
"He's gorgeous," Eleanor whispered.
"I told you. I planned to get all angry in his face about Alexia, but he's smitten. I'm getting the vapors just from being in the same room with him," Irene said.
"He's way too much male for Alexia," Eleanor said.
"Should we each ask for a third?" Irene asked as she used her hand to make the divisions. By her slicing techniques, I would get the bottoms of his feet.
"I'll take the middle with a cherry on top," Eleanor said with an all-knowing smile.
"I could find one hundred and one uses for his mouth," Irene said.
"We are crass, sizing up our sister's date," Eleanor said as she turned to me.
"To put it lightly," I said, stepping around to them.
"Alexia, you brought him to us. Don't complain about the assessment. You're thinking the same thing. We're a tad jealous," Irene said, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
"Sweetie, the way he's scanning you, he's practically drooling on the dress," Eleanor said.
"He did say I looked nice," I said.
"Good, let him tear it a little, and I'll sell it on the Internet," Eleanor said as she sauntered away.
Irene laughed and hiked back to the hostess stand. Eleanor resumed her perch on the barstool and ordered a fresh drink.
I returned to the table. "I'm sorry, but I knew they were dissecting us. I love them, but they're not subtle. We can leave, if you want."
"I would like a drink. Having the attention of three gorgeous women is every man's dream. I'm not offended, but a warning would have been appreciated," he said.
"Hi, Alexia, what can I get you from the bar?" the waiter asked.
"Tim, this is Ben." The men shook hands. "I'll have a watermelon martini."
"Since Irene is paying, I'll have your best scotch," Ben said.
Tim bowed and left.
"I had an interview at Single Chicago ."
"How did it go?" He opened the menu.
"They were very interested in us, and all we could bring to the magazine. Our picture was attached to my resume." I rearranged my silverware to keep my hands busy and off him.
"I'm sorry, Alexia." He closed the menu and shook his head.
"You are permeating my life, Benjamin Nance Cobb."
"I wish it was in a positive way. I've cost you two jobs. The press is sleeping on your front lawn. Your sisters won't give you a moment's peace." He moved closer and rested his arm over the back of the booth.
"You have nothing to do with my sisters' interference. Its white noise to me because it's a constant."
Tim brought our drinks.
"Are you ready to order?" he asked.
"I bow to your expertise," Ben said to me.
"We'll have stuffed mushrooms, encrusted tilapia, and house salads," I said.
"Excellent choices." Tim took the menus and left.
"Do you cook or write or model or fend off interviewers for a living?" Ben asked as his fingers filtered through my hair.
A hum vibrated down my spine as I tried to concentrate on his words and not his mouth. Before the fog hit my brain, he asked about my profession choices. I pretended men always caressed me in public.
"Don't forget escape artist and stealth woman. Unfortunately, I do all of the above and none very well. I never graduated from culinary school. I can cook but can't be graded. After a dishwasher overflow and an accidental food poisoning, I left to pursue journalism, but don't have a degree in it either. I covered parades, village board meetings, oldest lady in the nursing home, award-winning tomatoes, and all the fluff fit to print. I entered a cake contest on a whim. One of the judges worked at Chicago News. She needed an assistant who could bake. I didn't win, but I got the job. I haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up."
"Me neither. Maybe we're both stuck in Neverland, Wendy," he said, continuing to twirl a lock of my hair.
"Yeah, but your trip pays better, Peter."
Our salads arrived, and mine included an