“Good choice.” He put in my order, then put his phone away. Before he backed out, though, he fussed with the radio, settling on some backwoods country station.

“Can I call you sometime?” he asked, still staring at the radio display.

“Toss me your phone,” I said. He processed my words for a couple of seconds then pulled out his device, placing it in my hand. I looked down at the simple black phone. It was heavy, maybe the first smart phone in existence. I paused, almost changing my mind. God, that reminded me of Matt. Didn’t care about technology as long as it did the bare minimum of what he needed.

“Did you forget your number?”

I programmed my name and number then soft-tossed it at him. Zeke must have caught it because I didn’t hear it hit the window.

He didn’t say anything else, but seemed happy, driving with me next to him, singing to the same weird honkytonk shit Kitsch and Sloan listened to. He turned up the volume as if it wasn’t blasting already.

His hand met the steering wheel to the beat at every stop light, and again as we rolled into the parking lot of Oka Ramen.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, pushing open the driver’s side door.

“Here, let me give you some—”

He closed the door, smiled and winked at me, then jogged inside.

“Cash,” I finished. I waited, looked around, watched cars go by, wondering what the hell I was doing. Zeke was so comfortable around me—which threw me off—and he didn’t seem intimidated by me either. He was quickly becoming part of a very small category of men I could stand to be around.

He didn’t speak much on the way back, instead glancing over at me once in a while with a content grin. When we parked, we gathered the bags and carried them in together. Zeke’s grin grew wider, and I knew it was because just hanging out was … good, normal, natural. We didn’t have to try or fuss or worry. We just were.

The hotel doors swept open, and I followed Zeke in. The other hotshots stared for a few moments at Zeke’s large sacks, and Darby’s eyes grew as wide as saucers when she saw us coming.

“I’m suddenly starving,” she said, reaching to help Zeke. She dug into the bags, looking for her order.

“That one’s yours … and this … and this…” he said, handing her the other items.

“Thanks, Zeke,” Trex said, taking his own Styrofoam bowl. He peeled back the lid and steam rolled out. “You eating with us?” he asked. “We can go over to the table and sofas in the corner where the television is.”

“I’m actually going to go upstairs,” Zeke said, pointing up.

“How much do I owe you?” Trex asked.

Zeke waved him away. “You can get it next time.”