His indignant grunt of laughter made me smile. Any other time I think he would have challenged me to see just who could hold their liquor better.
“I promise. I’ll fix this.”
“No,” I said, pulling back and slapping his chest gently with my hand. “Absolutely not. I’ll take care of this. I just need you to stay away from those guys. They’re dangerous, Tate. I mean it. I can look after myself, but if you’re involved in any way…”
Tate’s eyes widened as mine moved to the main part of the diner. Looking between Janette and me, he slid past us and to the window of the swinging door, staring out at the sea of tables, easily finding the group of bikers at the back. “They’re here?”
“Yes, but go to school, T,” I said, moving in between him and the door, my hands planted firmly on his chest. “Nothing you can do. Just let me handle it.”
“But—”
“They’re having breakfast. That's it. Now go, before you miss second period and get barred from your game tonight.” I moved away from him to the tray where I’d started putting the dozen coffees together. My hands weren’t as shaky now that I’d seen Tate. His appearance had fortified me enough that I knew I could get through this. “No more buts. I’m going to be home by five tonight and I want you there.Alone. We can talk before your game. Understand me?”
Hoisting the tray onto my shoulder, I looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer even though his eyes were still locked on the scene through the circular window.
“Tate!”
“Fine, I’m going. No Sloane after school.” He started toward the back door as I pushed my ass against the swinging ones.
“And Tate?”
“Yeah?” he asked, turning to look at me.
“Not a word about any of this toanyone. That includes Sloane. Don’t ever forget her father is the chief of police.”
I didn’t give him a chance to answer as I pushed through the door and plastered a confident smile on my lips, weaving my way to the tables where Drew and his friends were sitting expectantly. Sliding a mug in front of each of them, I straightened up and looked the formidable Drew Tucker in the eyes with all of the strength I could muster.
“Did you decide what you’d like for breakfast, sir?” I asked in my most professional and genuinely polite voice. I was certain he wasn’t going to let me get away with just doing my job, but seeing Tate had really helped. He was the reason I had to keep myself in check and why I had to control my impulses around this arrogant, cocky jerk. There couldbe no more goading or fishing, certainly not in front of all of his friends. For now, the insults had to be kept to my inner monologue, in the hope I could keep control of myself.
His face showed no emotion as he stared back at me. No anger. No humor. No sadness. No joy. Not a single damn thing. It was as if he was able to switch those moments of rage and amusement on and off like a light switch. Dropping his eyes back down to the table, he surprised me by being the first to look away before he gave me his order in a quick breath. “I’ll have Rusty’s meat mountain. Extra pancakes. I want the bacon crisp, the steak rare and give me some eggs, hash browns, and beans on the side. Make it quick.” Drew stopped to lean back in his seat again before he turned to flash me a sarcastic glare. “Please.”
My mouth stayed in the polite smile as he spoke, my pen scribbling along the paper as quickly as possible. Looking at the order, I peered up, attempting not to piss him off by asking too many questions. “How would you like your eggs?”
“Beaten,” he answered quickly.
“With the four meat, you have one more side. You can have double hash, mushrooms, double beans, grits, a fruit plate, side salad or those potato cubes that don’t really have a name.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and smiled. I could see the silent challenge there. He was as cool as a cucumber, but he was waiting for me to lose my patience—to be the one to throw the first punch, so to speak.
“How about a trade off?”
“What kind of trade off?” I asked, itching my eyebrow with the end of my pen thoughtlessly as I looked at the huge order on the pad.
“The kind of trade off where I forego the mushrooms in exchange for you.”
Chapter Twelve
Drew
“I...”
My eyes narrowed as I watched her struggle to find the words she wanted to say. A giant fuck off was quite obviously sitting on the tip of her tongue, and the rapid fit of blinking she was doing was enough to tell me she didn't know how the hell to answer something which both of us knew made very little sense.
I glanced at the guys around me, looking up through my brows and giving them a silent order to go along with whatever came out of my mouth next. Truth was, I didn't know what I was doing here anymore than she knew what to expect. She annoyed the living shit out of me, but I knew I had to find a way to deal with this without creating a scene. While Harry might have been confusing me with his new found bipolar moods, he was right about one thing: I'd always made it a rule to keep our business private. In public, we smiled. In the yard, we handled our own.
Leaning back over the table, I glanced up at Ayda and dropped my voice to a level only we could hear.
“I'm sure your boss could spare you for ten minutes while I eat, doll. Tell him this is health and safety training. A life or death kinda thing.”
She stared blankly at me like she had no clue how to respond. Her mouth opened once, twice, then a third time before she clamped it back shut and looked over her shoulder at the man behind the counter. When her baby blues eventually turned back to face me, all she could do was push the nib of her pen farther into her pad and stare.
