Becca dropped to one of the chairs and immediately pulled off her Converse sneakers. She went to rubbing the arches of her feet and stretching her toes simultaneously.
A bottle of water slid across the table and stopped right in front of her. She looked up from her impromptu foot massage. Linx. He took a gulp from his own bottle.
“Thanks.” She removed the cap and took a drink. New rule: she had to take more personal moments to rehydrate the next time they had a night like tonight.
“We’ve had a good night.” She nearly finished the liquid in the bottle in just those few moments. “I’ll get you your cut when I cash out.”
Linx laughed. Full-out laughed. “I’m not working for tips.”
She frowned at him. Then she frowned at herself. Linx was likely loaded beyond any comprehension she’d ever have. He wasn’t counting tips.
Of course, he wasn’t.
“You can donate your portion, if you don’t want it,” she said. They’d been a team. It didn’t feel right for her to keep the tips.
“I’m not the one out there busting my ass.” He flipped a chair around and straddled it. “I’ve got the easy part.”
She didn’t believe that was true. He worked as fast as she did. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get your cut.”
He locked his gaze on the door leading outside. “I owe Brek more than a night of pouring beer.”
“Why?”
Okay, she shouldn’t have asked. Not really. It wasn’t her business. But she hadasked. Might as well see where the unpacking of that question took them. Then she was going to start checking those questions so they didn’t raise her responsibility level or her stress level.
“Because he’s covered my ass more than a dozen times while we toured.” Linx’s hands fell to his sides, the water bottle barely hanging on between his forefinger and middle finger.
“Ah.” Becca nodded, letting any further questions go. They weren’t her business, and this was most definitely not her job.
“Ah, what?” Linx asked, turning the tables right around on her with the questioning.
She shifted in her seat. “Just, ah.”
“Seems like you have something else you’d like to say.”
“I’m just thinking that you don’t owe someone when they do something kind for you. It’s not like we’re all keeping markers and tallies so we can cash in.”
He pinched his forehead tight. “What universe do you live in?”
“A healthy one, I’d like to think.” Most of the time.
“Somebody does something for you and you just…take it?” He sounded incredulous at the thought. “With no plans of repayment?”
“No, it’s not like that.” She shook her head. “I just know that when I pay it forward, it may not be to them. Like Karma.”
Ugh. She could totally do a better job of explaining this.
“I guess what I’m saying is that being a good person isn’t about keeping tally. It’s about being a decent human being.” There, that sounded better.
He seemed to chew on that for a moment, staring at the worn wooden table before moving his eyes to meet hers.
Oh boy, oh boy…Those brown eyes should come with a warning label.
“Velma says you’re a shrink,” he said.
Ick. No. She hated that term. She didn’t shrink anyone. She built them up. Except, now, for obvious reasons. “I’m trained as a therapist.”
That got her a smirk. Full lips accented his grin in a way that did tingly things to her insides. “I’m not one to pry—”
