“Stop. I won’t order you that. Promise.” He glanced down at the listings. The stacked sandwich with beef, sausage, and coleslaw piled high would probably send her running for the door, but he couldn’t let her leave here without at least trying some of the smoked beef served with smoke sauce. “How do you feel about the brisket?”

Becca pursed her lips and finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” When she didn’t put down her menu right away, he reached out and took it away from her. “Stop. I know you’re looking at the chicken Caesar salad or something equally safe, but you can’t eat in an Oklahoma landmark famous for its special sauce and smoked meats and order something you could get anywhere in New York. As your tour guide, I won’t let you do it.”

She finally relinquished her hold on the menu. “All right. Since you’re my tour guide, and since you’re not making me eat the deep-fried bologna thing, I’ll listen to you.”

“Oh, I won’t make you order the bologna, but you’re sure as hell gonna take a bite of mine.” That came out a bit more suggestively than he’d intended, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, really. Is that a fact?” Becca leaned in, her voice low and sultry, and his gaze dropped to her tempting lips.

“Yes, it is.” He noticed his own voice had dipped lower.

“If I do, I certainly hope it lives up to expectations.” Her eyes narrowed.

He let out a snort. “Oh, it will. Believe me.”

And now he had a raging hard-on from talking about fried bologna sandwiches. Though not really, because somewhere along the way, this conversation had taken a severe left turn. They definitely weren’t talking about sandwiches anymore.