“i’d like to order a..” your words trailed off as your eyes took in the sight of a fine specimen.

the way his dress shirt tugged at his muscular body, the way his first three upper buttons were undone, the way he fiddled with the pencil in his hand impatiently, waiting for you to order your meal.

baby blues met your gaze and you halted.

“i’d recommend our finest bowls of pasta.” the deep voice resonated through the restaurant, trying to help you decide on your order.