Chapter 138:
Every head turned his way. Flashing a mischievous grin, Ralphy gestured in Dylan’s direction. “You know, Miss Jones, Dylan isn’t just good company—he’s a force on the track. You two ought to square off sometime and see whose nerves hold up better.”
Ralphy had spent enough time watching Dylan fumble for an opening—now he was determined to give his friend the spotlight.
Caught off guard, Christina’s eyebrows shot up as she glanced at Dylan.
“You race, too?”
“Yeah,” Dylan replied, his tone measured, poker-faced.
Ralphy, clearly unimpressed with Dylan’s curt reply, couldn’t help himself. This was Dylan’s chance, and he wasn’t about to let him blow it.
Eager to raise the stakes, Ralphy added, “No exaggeration—Dylan’s the best I’ve ever seen.” He tossed a knowing look at Elliott, his grin widening. “If Dylan hit the track, even that legendary Darknight would have to watch his back.”
Elliott let out a low, icy chuckle. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Of course! You think I’d lie about that? I’d bet money on it!” Ralphy’s faith in Dylan was unshakable.
Elliott smirked. “Then have your friend test his luck with me first. If he can’t beat me, he’s got no business going up against Miss Jones.”
Before Ralphy could respond, Dylan stepped in. His face gave nothing away. “Alright,” he said. “Name the time.”
Elliott challenged, his eyes locking onto Dylan’s. “After your family’s reunion banquet. We’ll settle it then.”
“Deal,” Dylan replied coolly. Elliott had no objections. With the banquet coming up, he didn’t have the energy to waste before then anyway.
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“These are amazing—anyone wanna try?” Christina offered, holding out a plate of chicken roll-ups.
There were two flavors. One was plain, the other drenched in pesto.
Dylan and Elliott both frowned at the pesto ones. They weren’t fans of basil leaves. But watching Christina dig in so happily, even they couldn’t deny—the chicken roll-ups with pesto looked good.
“I’ll give it a try,” Dylan said, scooping up a piece. The food exploded in his mouth. The pesto gave a savory, rich, earthy umami flavor to the dish. Not bad.
Not wanting to be left out, Elliott tasted the food himself.
“Good?” Christina asked between bites. This place really knew how to cook their signature dishes. She and Davina had been here before and loved it.
Elliott nodded. “Yeah. These folks know what they’re doing.”
“The ravioli is even better. Here, try some,” Christina said, handing some to him.
Dylan spoke up. “I’d like some too.”
Christina didn’t dwell on Dylan’s request, assuming he just wanted to try the ravioli instead of seeing it as a competition with Elliott for her attention. Without hesitation, she served him some.
“They also do great baked ziti—the creaminess of the provolone cheese and sour cream, and a homemade meat sauce. I ordered two plates, but we can get more if it’s not enough,” Christina kept chatting as she grabbed a morsel of baked ziti and consumed it in one bite. The dish was full of flavor—top-notch. If only she had a cold beer to go with it, it would’ve been perfect.
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