Free Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6) by Lisa B. Kamps Page B

with excitement as she watched the crowd. She looked out of place, a little too overdressed in a blue-and-black patterned flowing sweater and trim black slacks in a crowd of mostly jeans and sweatshirts.
    What was he thinking, bringing her here for oversized greasy pizza instead of somewhere nice? She deserved expensive entrees on fancy china, not greasy pizza on paper plates.
    Even if pizza had been her idea.
    He still couldn't believe she had agreed to dinner with him. Hell, he was still having trouble believing that night in her office was real and not some kind of alcohol-induced fantasy. Except he hadn't been drinking that night, had been stone cold sober.
    He was stone cold sober now, too. Justin looked over at the counter, at the large plastic cups and buckets and beer tap. Cold beer would be perfect with the pizza, so perfect, his mouth damn near watered. He'd almost ordered some when he ordered the pizza, not thinking anything of it. What was more natural than cold beer and hot pizza? But Val had looked at him, with some kind of almost-knowing expression in her wide hazel eyes. Then she turned to the kid behind the counter and ordered two large iced teas. He hadn't wanted to correct her, hadn't want to disappoint her. And that's what it would have felt like, if he had ordered beer, like he was disappointing her.
    He wasn't sure what to make of that.
    Val moved on the plastic bench across from him, shifting so she could bring her left leg up and tucking it underneath her. "I can't believe this place is still open. And still so busy."
    "You've been here before?" Justin wanted to smack himself as soon as the question left his mouth. Of course she'd been here before, that much was obvious.
    "Not in years. Probably at least…" She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, looking up toward the cracked tile ceiling. "Wow. I bet it has to be at least five years. It doesn't look like anything's changed, either."
    Justin looked around again, studying everything with a more critical eye. Plain Formica tables, most of the tops sporting some chips or cracks. Red hard plastic benches flanked most of the tables, with a scattering of black metal chairs with red upholstered seats here and there. The floor was linoleum tile, showing age and wear.
    Simply called The Pizza Joint, it wasn't a place that would stand out, not here at the Inner Harbor. Not anywhere, really. It looked like nothing more than a typical neighborhood pizzeria: one giant room filled with tables, a counter with a register near the back wall, several ovens and a stainless steel counter behind that. Metal shelves stood off to the side, piled high with white cardboard boxes, ready to go for the next order.
    But the line wrapped along the wall and out the door, mostly college students or young couples waiting to order a slice to go. They had been lucky to get a table, probably because Val damn near ran for it, beating out a group of kids barely old enough to drink.
    "Well hopefully the pizza is just as good as you remember."
    "If it's even half as good as this place smells, I'll be in heaven." She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. The gesture was so sudden, so unexpected and so foreign, that he nearly jumped. "Thanks again for indulging me. I know this isn't exactly on your approved menu."
    Justin wanted to tell her it didn't matter, wanted to admit to her that he hadn't been adhering to any menu, approved or otherwise, for the last several months. Not when it came to drinking. But he didn't, because he didn't want to see disappointment in her eyes, didn't want to see anything but that sparkling excitement she had when she was looking at him.
    Like he really wasn't some complete fuck-up.
    And then the kid walked up to their table, carrying their pizza and a metal stand to sit the tray on. Val squeezed his hand once more then let it go, and the moment was gone.
    What the hell was wrong with him? Here he was, sitting across from