“Do what?”
“When I ask ‘What is it?’ you don’t get to say ‘nothing,’ when clearly it’s something. If it’s secret squirrel business, you being a cop and all, then you say so, and I won’t press for answers.”
He grinned crookedly. “Secret squirrel business?” When she didn’t return his grin, he sobered. “All right. I can agree not to brush aside your questions. You want to try again?”
“Yes. What caught your interest a few moments ago?”
“My own thoughts. Strictly secret squirrel, though.”
“Oh. Well, that’s disappointing.”
“My thoughts frequently are.”
Ramsey didn’t believe that for a moment. She considered challenging him but their food arrived and the opportunity passed. Probably for the better. They didn’t speak again until they’d made a sizeable dent in their breakfast. The silence was neither deliberate nor awkward. It just was. Companionable. Comfortable. Two people who still didn’t know each other well, but had no desire for conversational clutter.
“It’s been a while since the wedding. Have you heard from your cousin?” asked Ramsey, spreading strawberry jam on her last triangle of toast. “Honeymoon meet all of Linda’s expectations?”
“Seems like. You were right about the camping trip. They went to Seneca Falls. Hiked and biked and slept in a tent. Turned off their cells. Gloriously peaceful is how Linda described it.”
“Wild and wonderful, too, I bet.”
“I’m sure. Where did you go on your honeymoon?”
Ramsey carefully laid down her knife. “Sneaky,” she said. “I never said I was married.”
“But you were, weren’t you?”
She hesitated then nodded. “Vegas honeymoon.” She took a bite of toast. In spite of the butter and jam, it tasted dry. She required coffee to get it down. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t, not until you told me. I’ve resisted doing any kind of search in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t. You’d have had a better question than asking me where I spent my honeymoon.”
“Like what?”
Ramsey chuckled. “Easy there, Hoss. We haven’t had a third date.”
“Something to look forward to then.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not.”
“At least assure me that you’re divorced.”
“I’m divorced.”
“Did you take back your maiden name?”
“More or less,” she said. “And that’s the last you’re getting from me. This isn’t twenty questions.”
Sullivan pushed his plate away, picked up his coffee, and leaned back. “Damn. I like that game.” The waitress showed up with two checks. Sullivan took them both. “I got this,” he told Ramsey.
She plucked one of the receipts from his hand, glanced at it. “Mine. Otherwise it’ll seem like a date.”
“God forbid.”
Ramsey shrugged. “We haven’t talked about the concert. Yeah, I know we’ve got some time but I like to have a plan. I assumed I’d be driving. Is that all right with you?”
“Sure. I’ve just about got my truck’s transmission done, but I don’t want to count on it.”
