Burger Buns Quotes

A typical National World Weekly would tell the world how Jesus' face was seen on a Big Mac bun bought by someone from Des Moines, with an artist's impression of the bun; how Elvis Presley was recently sighted working in a Burger Lord in Des Moines; how listening to Elvis records cured a Des Moines housewife's cancer; how the spate of werewolves infesting the Midwest are the offspring of noble pioneer women raped by Bigfoot; and that Elvis was taken by Space Aliens in 1976 because he was too good for this world. Remarkably, one of these stories is indeed true.

Ribbons, balloons, paper flowers, candies, diapers, and dolls. An aarti tray was set up by the shrine. A long table was covered in confetti and an assortment of food: little square cakes that resembled building blocks spelling out “Welcome Baby Shah,” cups with veggie dip and long slivers of vegetables, lettuce wraps, and a watermelon carved into a baby stroller filled with fruit balls. Alongside that were silver platters of warm vegetable samosas and bowls of a dark green chutney with spicy jalapeño, and sweet date and tangy tamarind chutney. Potato and onion pakora came next, fried golden brown with hints of green herbs and creamy raita. I knew I had to get some dabeli before those went fast and plucked a small bun of what was essentially a spiced potato burger topped with peanuts and pomegranate seeds. There was, of course,

Margo Brinker always thought summer would never end. It always felt like an annual celebration that thankfully stayed alive long day after long day, and warm night after warm night. And DC was the best place for it. Every year, spring would vanish with an explosion of cherry blossoms that let forth the confetti of silky little pink petals, giving way to the joys of summer. Farmer's markets popped up on every roadside. Vendors sold fresh, shining fruits, vegetables and herbs, wine from family vineyards, and handed over warm loaves of bread. Anyone with enough money and enough to do on a Sunday morning would peruse the tents, trying slices of crisp peaches and bites of juicy smoked sausage, and fill their fisherman net bags with weekly wares. Of all the summer months, Margo liked June the best. The sun-drunk beginning, when the days were long, long, long with the promise that summer would last forever. Sleeping late, waking only to catch the best tanning hours. It was the time when the last school year felt like a lifetime ago, and there were ages to go until the next one. Weekend cookouts smelled like the backyard- basil, tomatoes on the vine, and freshly cut grass. That familiar backyard scent was then smoked by the rich addition of burgers, hot dogs, and buttered buns sizzling over charcoal.

great. This is a good description of Rovio, which was around for six years and underwent layoffs before the “instant” success of the Angry Birds video game franchise. In the case of the Five Guys restaurant chain, the founders spent fifteen years tweaking their original handful of restaurants in Virginia, finding the right bun bakery, the right number of times to shake the french fries before serving, how best to assemble a burger, and where to source their potatoes before expanding nationwide. Most businesses require a complex network of relationships to function, and these relationships take time to build. In many instances you have to be around for a few years to receive consistent recognition. It takes time to develop connections with investors, suppliers, and vendors. And it takes time for staff and founders to gain effectiveness in their roles and become a strong team.* So, yes, the bar is high when you want to start a company. You’ll have the chance to work on something you own and care about from day to day. You’ll be 100 percent engaged and motivated, and doing something you believe in. You can lead an integrated life, as opposed to a compartmentalized one in which you play a role in an office and then try to forget about it when you get home. You can define an organization, not the other way around. But even if you quit your job, hunker down for years, work hard for uncertain reward, and ask everyone you know for help, there’s still a great chance that your new business will not succeed. Over 50 percent of companies fail within their first three years.2 There’s a quote I like from an unknown source: “Entrepreneurship is living a few years of your life like most people won’t, so that you can spend the rest of your life like most people can’t.

Sable sauntered in to the Burger Lord. It was exactly like every other Burger Lord in America. [But not like every other Burger Lord across the world. German Burger Lords, for example, sold lager instead of root beer, while English Burger Lords managed to take any American fast food virtues (the speed with which your food was delivered, for example) and carefully remove them; your food arrived after half an hour, at room temperature, and it was only because of the strip of warm lettuce between them that you could distinguish the burger from the bun. The Burger Lord pathfinder salesmen had been shot twenty-five minutes after setting foot in France.]

P.S.” Kimmie continues, nodding toward my sculptor of Adam’s lips, the assignment was to sculpt something exotic, not erotic. Are you sure you weren’t so busy wishing me dead that you just didn’t hear right? Plus, if it was eroticism you were going for, how come there’s no tongue wagging out of his mouth?” “And what’s exotic about your piece?” “Seriously, it doesn’t get more exotic than leopard, particularly if that leopard is in the form of a swanky pair of kitten heels . . . but I thought I’d start out small.” “Right,” I say, looking at her oblong ball of clay with what appears to be four legs, a golf-ball-sized head, and a long, skinny tail attached. “And, from the looks of your sculpture,” she continues, adjusting the lace bandana in her pixie-cut dark hair, “I presume your hankering for a Ben Burger right about now. The question is, will that burger come with a pickle on the side or between the buns?” “You’re so sick,” I say, failing to mention that my sculptor isn’t of Ben’s mouth at all. “Seriously? You’re the one who’s wishing me dead whilst fantasizing about your boyfriend’s mouth. Tell me that doesn’t rank high up on the sik-o-meter.” “I have to go,” I say, throwing a plastic tarp over my work board. “Should I be worried?” “About what?” “Acting manic and chanting about death?” “I didn’t chant.” “Are you kidding? For a second there I thought you were singing the jingle to a commercial for roach killer: You deserve to die! You deserve to die! You deserve to die!

4. THE CRUMBLING WALL (Hamburger, prepared medium well, with bacon and barbecue sauce. Courtesy of that place on Solano, where, it should be mentioned, they use much too much barbecue sauce, which anyone should know has the almost immediate effect of soaking the bun, the bun becoming like oatmeal, inedible, the burger ruined, all in a matter of minutes--so quick that even when the burger is picked up and patrons attempt to save the bun ('Separate them! Quick! Get the bun away from the sauce! Now scrape! Scrape!'), it's always too late, necessitating the keeping, at home, of a stash of replacement buns, which are then toasted, heavily, to provide maximum resistance to the sauce's degenerative effects. Served with potatoes of the French kind, and fruit, as above.

A Mediterranean flatbread, the pita is baked at a high temperature so that puffy pockets form in the middle, which can then be stuffed with meat or beans. He did the same thing that Secretary Girl did with her turtle burger bun... ... picking something that would keep the meat juices from dripping out the bottom! Hmm. You used a handmade Tzatziki sauce to ameliorate the smelliness of the kebab meat and to create a mild base to make the spices stand out. And the burger patty... ... is kofta! A Middle Eastern meatloaf of ground beef and lamb mixed with onions and plentiful spices, its highly fragrant aroma hits the nose hard! Its scent and umami flavor are powerful enough to bring tears to the eyes!" W-what is going on here?! How could they eat all that greasy, heavy meat so quickly and easily?! "Here. Let me give you a lesson. Four things are required for a good burger. A bun, a patty, some kind of sauce and... ...pickles. The sharp smell and tart flavor of pickles is what highlights the meaty umami of the patty. Pickles are a hidden but key component of the best burgers! From what I could tell, you used ginger sticks as your pickle analogue... ... but that was a weak choice." "What?! Then what did you choose that's so much better?!" "The pickle type that I picked for my burger... ...is achaar." "Achaar?" "What kind of pickle is that?" ACHAAR South Asian in origin, achaar consists of fruits or vegetables pickled in mustard oil or brine, and then mixed with a variety of spices. Sometimes called Indian pickles, achaar is strongly tart and spicy. This is achaar I made with onions. The spicy scent of the mustard oil makes the meaty umami of the kofta patty really stands out. For the tartness, I used amchoor- also known as mango powder- a citrusy powder made from dried unripe mangoes. But that's just the base. I added lemon juice to bolster the citrusy flavor of the amchoor... ... and then some garlic, ginger and chili peppers to give it an aroma that tickles the nose. Cloves. Cumin seeds. Black pepper. Paprika. I even added a dab of honey to give it a hint of sweetness.

KATHLEEN: I think I’m falling for Garner Bradford. ROSE: What! Hang on a minute. Let me pass the baby to Henry so I can concentrate on this conversation. One sec. Okay. I’m in my bedroom with the door closed. You’re falling for Garner Bradford? KATHLEEN: I’ve been trying hard not to and I’ve been doing an okay job of it, but the company held one of its family barbecue picnics this afternoon. I went and he was there with his girls and it melted me. Seeing him with them. ROSE: More details, please. KATHLEEN: I was talking with one of the women from accounting when I spotted him getting into the food line with the girls. I excused myself and hurried over because it looked like he could use an extra hand. He can’t very well hold three plates at once, right? ROSE: Right. KATHLEEN: I ended up filling his daughter Willow’s plate. ROSE: Which one is Willow? KATHLEEN: The older one. She’s four. Nora, the younger one, is two. After I carried Willow’s plate to their table, Garner was sort of honor-bound to invite me to join them. So I sat down, and when I looked across the table, I saw that Garner had a burger exactly like mine. We both chose the bun with sesame seeds. We both put tomatoes and pickles and grilled onions and ketchup and mustard on ours. ROSE: Let me guess. Neither one of your burgers had lettuce. KATHLEEN: Exactly! No lettuce. ROSE: It sounds like fate. KATHLEEN: That’s what I thought. It felt more and more like fate the longer I sat there. Willow is serious and quiet. Nora is sweet and busy. They’re gorgeous little girls, Rose. ROSE: I’m sure they are. KATHLEEN: And Garner was wonderful with them. He used a wet wipe to clean their hands. He cut their hot dogs into tiny pieces. He brought their sippy cups out of his bag. He redid Willow’s ponytail when it started to sag. The girls look at him like he hung the moon. ROSE: And by the time you finished your lettuce-free hamburger, you were looking at him like he hung the moon, too. KATHLEEN: Yes. ROSE: Mm-hmm. KATHLEEN:

He sauntered to the counter. “What can I do for you?” The red bandana he wore held back the hair that typically covered his eyes. I loved his eyes. Chocolate-brown, full of mischief and a spark ready to light the world on fire. “Can I have a glass of water, please?” And please let it be free. “Is that it?” My stomach growled, loud enough for Noah to hear. “Yep, that’s it.” He fixed me a glass and handed it to me. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a burger? A nice thick burger on a toasted bun with salty fries on the side?” I sucked on my straw, gulping the ice water down. Funny, water didn’t give me that warm, fuzzy, full feeling like a burger and fries would. “I’m fine, thank you.” “Suit yourself. You see that nice-looking piece of meat right there?” He motioned to the patty frying. The aroma made my mouth water.

You were a fucking moron to think this girl wanted anything more from you. I’m just her meal ticket, the same as I was for the rest of them. Red-hot rage builds in my chest as I stand there, staring at the screen, waiting for another email to pop up in the chain so I can write FUCK OFF in capital letters, repeated hundreds of times. What should I do? Confront her? No. I stride out of the room and slam the door, relishing the sound of it. I’m going to make Princess Daisy’s life hell. F*CK THE ROYALS! Madness in Harronvale Café Daisy Cheeseburgers. Sometimes I dream about the taste of them. The fried onions cooked in the ground beef patty, the toasted sesame bun, American cheese oozing over the whole thing, and the tang of ketchup to accompany it. Yeah, I fantasize about them a lot. I sometimes smell them. The moment I wake up, it hits my nose. I open my eyes, waiting for it to disappear, but the greasy smell doesn’t disappear. I nearly fall over my sheets in my haste to get out of bed. Anglefell doesn’t have a burger joint. I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without a burger or a pizza. I haven’t realized how much I need fast food until the tantalizing scent hits my stomach. I burst through the guest room door and walk toward it. Liam sits on the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. There’s a half-eaten carton of french fries next to him with a little tub of red paste, and in his hand is a giant cheeseburger. He bites into it, and I imagine the taste exploding over my own tongue. He chews loudly, the sound carrying across the room. He gives the burger a thoughtful look. “Wow—this is—really adequate.” I make a strangled sound,

As the first humans acquired tools and an appreciation of minimalist cave art, they turned their attention to improving their lives and understanding the cosmos. Homo erectus erected the first blazing fire 500 000 years ago. After burgers went from raw to medium-well, a truly long time elapsed before the next human milestone: the bun. The first planting of grains and other crops, which occurred just 12 000 years ago, ended our million-year low-carb diet and freed us from being hunters. No longer plagued by the frustration of trying to sneak up on animals with bigger ears and faster legs, humans started staying put. Our nomadic days were ending.

Keieve had no words. She was in awe. She could see the love and sincerity in his eyes. At that moment, she knew he was the bun to her hot dog, the ham to her burger, the tank that held her oxygen, and the beat to her heart. Despite her doubts, she was willing to give this love thing one more

The first had been ordinary ground chuck, good and fatty, seasoned with salt and pepper- the most underrated beef seasoning there was- and smashed on the griddle. The second was brisket. Toothsome, but leaner than chuck. If she went with that, she'd have to add some oil to the mix, maybe smoky olive oil, to give it some juice. For now, the buttered bun did some of the work for her and kept the playing field even. But she would probably go with her third option: brisket, chuck, and short rib mixed. It wasn't as expensive as the pure brisket, but she thought it was far better. Then again, the fact that it wasn't as expensive was part of what made it a better option to her, so she wasn't entirely sure she trusted her own taste on this.

Yes, sir,” the butler agreed as he handed me my boots and a fresh set of clothes. “Lunch is ready in the dining hall.” I nodded shakily before I followed the man down the hall, and I could already tell by the delicious smell that he’d nailed the burger endeavor. The scent of grilled onions and melted cheese wafted through the mansion like a beacon of hope, and I took deep, mouthwatering breaths until I made it to the table. Then I clutched my clothes against my chest as I took in the sight of over a dozen burgers with glistening, buttered buns, two-inch thick patties, and all the fixings packed in so tight, they dripped down the sides. Extra toppings were neatly lined on platters while little bowls of what looked a lot like ketchup and mustard dotted the table, and there was even a frothing mug of ale waiting beside my place setting. “Alfred, how much do I pay you?” I asked. “An exorbitant amount, sir,” the butler assured me. I clapped him on the shoulder. “Double it.” “Certainly, sir.

Congratulations, sir,” Alfred preened as he offered a low bow. “It appears you will have several heirs to boast of, and your women seem quite proud.” “Violently so,” I agreed. “I know it’s a bit early for supper, but I’ve prepared a victory burger for you,” the butler announced as he came forward. “I used bison for the patties to spruce things up a bit, and I’ve taken the liberty of planting a flag in the bun to symbolize your triumph and the claiming of the vast territories that are your women.” “Hell, yeah,” I chuckled as I admired the tiny blue flag. “It looks like I settled some wild ass land.” “You certainly have, sir,” Alfred replied in complete seriousness. “What’s in the glasses?” I asked. “Spirits, of course,” the butler said with a smile, and he handed one to me before he raised the other in my honor. “May your children carry your legacy forth for generations to come, and may your women remain somewhat level-headed throughout their pregnancies.” “Well said, Alfred,” I chuckled heartily.

For our first course, we have a play on biscuits and gravy, a classic Southern dish that's also popular in the Midwest." Chef Laurent picked up his fork and cutter into the biscuit. "Here, we have a miniature biscuit topped a boudin blanc sawmill gravy and a poached quail egg." Chef Martinet poked at the quail egg until the yolk burst. Probably looking for egg flaws. Rosie decided to just keep talking. If she kept talking, she wouldn't be thinking about what they were eating. "I first had biscuits and gravy at the restaurant where my mom works." "Your mother, she is a chef?" Chef Laurent asked. He was going back in for another bite. That had to be a good sign. "No. She, um, manages the store... at the restaurant... where she works." No matter how much time Chef Laurent may have spent in Ohio, Rosie was pretty sure he hadn't experienced a Cracker Barrel. But he nodded like a combined restaurant and gift store was nothing out of the ordinary. "I put my own spin on sawmill gravy by using boudin blanc instead of breakfast sausage to incorporate some of the flavors I've discovered living here, and I kept the biscuit small and used a quail egg to keep the portion appropriate for a first course." "The biscuit is excellent," Chef Laurent said. "Fluffy, light, buttery- it is everything a biscuit should be. I should tell Marcus that this exactly the kind of appetizer he should serve." He must have meant Marcus Samuelsson. Rosie felt her hopes start to rise. "For our next course, we have a burger topped with Gruyère and caramelized onions on a brioche bun.

Burger.” Soup scrapes a patty off the grate for me and deposits it onto the open bun. “Extra juicy just for you.” “Thanks.” “Eat up. Then you should go take over for Piper before she gets really pissed off and starts swinging her mallet at Reed.” “Oh,” I say, searching for the right words. Soup is her father, after all. “She’s such a cute little girl.” “Yeah. Cutest dictator in the world.” “She’ll be a great big sister, though,” I try, but it comes out with minimal feeling. Soup shakes his head and glances at his wife. “Good luck, my unborn child

If you can't resist a burger craving, then go for it, but take off the cheese (that saves you at least 120 calories), avoid special sauces, and make burger "topless"---eat only one side of the bun. Or you can wrap the burger in lettuce and forget the bun entirely.

Staff meal." The words are sweet relief, and I untie the apron Roberto gave me, hanging it up on the hook by the entrance. Sure, I ate here last night. But there were so many things on the menu I didn't order. The open-faced duck confit sandwich with red wine aioli, the almond-crusted salmon with zucchini puree, tempura vegetables, chipotle oil. I wonder how this works, if we get to choose whatever we want. Or maybe it's some new creation, some experimental dish that Chef tries out on the staff before adding it to the menu. To think that I might try one of her dishes before anyone else is all the reward I need for today's scrubbing, for the hot water that has splashed all over me throughout the day. What I find instead is a sheet tray of charred burger patties, most of them covered in toxic-yellow American cheese. There's another sheet tray with toasted buns and matchstick fries. Morris and Boris are leaning against the coffee station, taking huge bites in sync. I try to hide my disappointment, follow Elias's lead and grab a plate. I'm shocked that some people are eating it just like that, munching down as quickly as possible without bothering with the condiments. I'm starving too, but it's crazy to me that Chef Elise's food is at their fingertips and everyone's just letting it sit there. There's a whole line of deli containers right in front of us, and I can't even tell what's in them, but the mere thought is making my mouth water. Whispering so that no one can laugh and/or yell at me, I ask Elias if it's cool to use some of the mise to spruce up the burger. He shrugs. "Do your thing." It mellows the disappointment a little: pickled red jalapeños, cilantro aioli, Thai slaw.

But you're here today, and this is one of the best burgers in town. It's a serious half pound of grass-fed beef topped with cheddar, bacon, pineapple, pickles, special sauce, and onions on a homemade sesame-seed bun.

My idea won't change the recipe. Your burger and filling are divine." He gave me a cocky grin. "Damn right they are." "I just agreed. What I'm suggesting is we can offer my idea as an add-on. You know, for an upcharge." "Just tell me. You're going to anyway." He didn't seem upset anymore. "What if we added blue cheese to the burger or crabmeat?" He scooped the burgers up and put them on a warm bun. He was listening. "Maybe call it Surf and Turf Black and Blue. Or something." "That's the best idea I ever heard." Betsy hung a ticket on the wheel. "I wish I hadn't had lunch already. I'd be the guinea pig for that!" The fryer alarm went off, and Sam pulled the basket of chicken fried chicken and hooked it to drain. "We should definitely try it. We could experiment with a couple of cheeses." That was fine by me, as long as blue cheese was one of them.

HEJ HEJ! CAFÉ MENU RULLEKEBAB Original (Rullekebab)----shaved seasoned beef, fresh flatbread, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, kebab sauce Blue Kebab (Rullekebab med blåmögelost)----Original Rullekebab with blue cheese Shroom Kebab (Rullekebab med champinjoner)----Original Rullekebab with mushrooms Hej Hej! Special Rullekebab----Original Rullekebab with pineapple, blue cheese, jalapeños HAMBURGARE Hand-patted, local grass-fed beef, homemade buns The Classic----beef, choice of cheese, bun The Gettysburg----caramelized shallots, mushrooms, blue cheese, bacon, balsamic glaze The Farfar----two patties, four slices of American cheese, four pieces of bacon The Gruff Burger----goat cheese, fries (on top!), caramelized shallots, poutine gravy to dip The Valedictorian----pepper-jack cheese, bacon, guacamole (from Rosa's) POMMES FRITES Fresh-cut fries Plain----with cheese or gravy to dip Loaded Kebab Fries----fresh-cut fries, chopped kebab meat, red and white kebab sauces, crumbled feta, diced jalapeños and tomatoes Goat Cheese Poutine----fresh-cut fries, house-made gravy, goat cheese crumbles MUNKAR Äpple Munk----fresh donut, cinnamon sugar, filled w/ apple and sweet cream Bär Munk----fresh donut, sugar, seasonal berry jam, sweet cream Munkhål----baby donuts (holes), cinnamon sugar Special Munk----daily and seasonal specials CUPCAKES Vanilla Wedding Cake, Devil's Food, Lemon, Strawberry Cheesecake, Weekly Specials SEASONAL TREATS Homemade Apple Crisp à la Mode Apple Fritters Pumpamunk Saffron Buns

When a product debuts, it can face opposition and may require significant promotion and explanation. Heinz EZ Squirt ketchup, Crystal Pepsi, and McDonalds’ Arch Deluxe were expected to shake up their categories. The products had huge budgets to introduce and explain different colored ketchups, clear and caffeine free cola, and a gastronomic hamburger for adults. All failed. The Arch Deluxe was a quarter pound of beef on a split-top potato flour sesame seed bun, topped with a circular piece of peppered bacon, leaf lettuce, tomato, American cheese, onions, ketchup, and Dijonnaise. In 1996, McDonald's spent over US$300 million on research, production, and marketing. Despite having the largest promotional budget to that point in fast food history, the “burger with the grownup taste”, neither compelled nor impressed.

Cole flicked a pickle onto the grass just across the sidewalk. He slapped the bun in his hands back together and took a bite. Just not the same as they used to be, he thought. Hamburgers had been his favorite food as a child, now he rarely ate them. Sometimes he wondered, What is the use? He bought the burger only because he needed comfort food. He really wanted mashed potatoes and gravy-dark, thick, heavily peppered gravy. He had no idea where to get gravy like he wanted anymore, so he settled for the burger. On the way to the park, it seemed like just the thing. It wasn’t. Now he just felt like

You can eat wonderful food in a junked train car on plebeian plates served by waitresses more likely to start dancing with the bartender to the beat of the indie music playing on the sound system than to inquire, “More Dom Pérignon, sir?” Truffles and oysters can still appear on the Brooklyn menu, but more common is old-fashioned “comfort food” turned into something haute: burgers made from grass-fed cattle from a New York farm, butchered in-house, and served on a perfectly grilled brioche bun; mac ‘n’ cheese made from heritage grains and artisanal cow and sheep’s milk. Tarlow was not the only Williamsburg artist unknowingly helping to define a Brooklyn brand at the turn of the millennium. Around the same time he opened up Diner, twenty-six-year-old Lexy Funk and thirty-one-year-old Vahap Avsar were stumbling into creating a successful business in an entirely different discipline. Their beginning was just as inauspicious as Diner’s: a couple in need of some cash found the canvas of a discarded billboard in a Dumpster and thought that it could be turned into cool-looking messenger bags. The fabric on the bags looked worn and damaged, a textile version of Tarlow’s rusted railroad car, but that was part of its charm. Funk and Avsar rented an old factory, created a logo with Williamsburg’s industrial skyline, emblazoned it on T-shirts, and pronounced their enterprise

To me, the quintessential Japanese chain is MOS Burger. My friend Rob Ketcherside, who lived in Nakano for years before returning to Seattle, is also a fan. "Visitors to Japan always make a big deal about McDonald's teriyaki burgers," said Rob, "but those are a shallow response to what MOS Burger offers." Indeed. MOS Burger serves something resembling a regular hamburger, but it is far beside the point. On one visit MOS, for example, Iris ordered a Yakiniku Rice Burger, with slices of Korean-style grilled beef between two toasted rice patties acting as a bun. My burger had a regular bun, but the patty was a crispy tonkatsu fillet topped with its usual tomatoey brown sauce. After I finished it, I was still hungry, so I ordered my own rice burger, a vegetarian one filled with kinpira gobō, shredded burdock root simmered with soy sauce, mirin, and chiles. Beat that, McDonald's. Next to the cash register at MOS, I noticed an ad for a new special menu item, only for a limited time: naan tacos. Yes, that would be Indian-style flatbread wrapped around Mexican-style fillings, presumably with a Japanese spin inside and out. I suspected the limited time offer has elapsed by now.

Did he really just ask me to take Ash out tonight? Was he insane? He didn’t deserve her. Any guy who would blow her off for something his daddy wanted shouldn’t get to have her. “Sure,” I replied, hearing the clipped tone in my voice. Stupid-ass cousin of mine had no clue what he was asking for. I was already headed for hell; I might as well enjoy the ride. “Great, thanks, man. Her favorite place to eat is the Seafood Shack. Just meet us there at six. I can grab a drink and spend a few minutes with you guys until I have to head out and meet Dad.” She hated the fried shrimp at the Seafood Shack, and their sweet tea always tasted bitter. It was Sawyer’s favorite place, and she had no doubt agreed with him that it was the best place to eat in town. He didn’t know her at all. “Since I’m agreeing to help out, let’s do this my way. I hate the Seafood Shack. I’m sure Princess Ashton won’t mind slumming it at Hank’s. The burgers there are better than anything the Seafood Shack has, and she really needs to taste their sweet tea.” Sawyer frowned a moment, then he nodded. “Okay, Ash’s agreeable. I’m sure she’ll be fine with Hank’s. I’ve not taken her there but a couple of times, and I think she might agree with you on the burgers. I remember her scarfing one down.” With bacon and cheese on a toasted bun. She even makes these cute little sounds of pleasure as she eats one. One of the many things I couldn’t believe he didn’t know about her.