“Yes.” He held my gaze. Steady and strong. And I remembered the look in those eyes when he’d pinned me to the mattress—with both his body and his force of will and personality.
“You just want me to give you all the inside story without even buying me coffee?”
He blinked. “You want coffee?”
I nodded.
“Uh, why?”
“I thought informants got paid. You can buy me coffee.”
Ulysses arched an eyebrow. “Fine. Coffee.”
Did he say that through gritted teeth? I couldn’t be certain—but a good part of me took perverse pleasure in riling him up. To what end, I wasn’t certain. “Great. Follow me.” Without waiting for a response, I opened the door to my truck and got in. As he made his way to his SUV, I rolled down my window and waved at Seth.
He shook his head—likely in exasperation—as I turned my pickup and headed to my favorite diner.
Fifties was very much as the name implied—built and opened in the fifties with very few additions over the years. The diner was a staple of life in Mission City, and I freaking loved it. Giancarlo and I often came here after work. To decompress. To hang out. To shoot the shit.
So he could flirt with Sarabeth.
I pulled into the parking lot, cut the engine, then hopped out. I was shutting the door and arming the alarm as Ulysses pulled into the spot next to me.
Even this far away from the fire—and over the railway tracks—the acrid smell was strong.
After he joined me, I grinned. “Let’s go inside.”
He followed me into the diner.
I smiled as Sarabeth approached. She winced. “I’ve got several emptytables. Smell’s keeping people home.”
“Probably a good thing.” I gazed into the restaurant. “We’ll take the two-seater at the back.”
“Cool. Menus are on the table. Coffee?”
“You bet.” I gestured to Ulysses with my chin. “He’s with me.”
“I’ll take a coffee as well.” He offered Sarabeth a smile. “Lovely to see you again.”
“You too. I’ll get right on that.” She headed toward the coffee pot while I sauntered down the aisle to the last booth. I sat facing the dining area—with my back against the wall.
Ulysses hesitated for a moment before sliding in across from me.
I grinned. “You know, I've changed my mind. I want dinner.” I grabbed the menu and made a show of opening it—even though I already knew what I wanted.
“You mean like a date?” Again with the arched eyebrow.
“No—a date is personal. You said business. I'm just business. You can buy me a steak.” I flipped to the dinner part of the menu.
Fifties was open twenty-four hours a day. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year. I’d spent a few holidays in here when Mom was working. And since the diner was open all the time, most of the menu items were available all the time. My favorite was the pancakes—almost as good as Mom’s. But today, I wanted to make a point.
“Business.” Ulysses repeated the word slowly—almost like he was testing it out. “You’re going to share?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Oh look, here comes Sarabeth with our coffees. Try to smile.” I winked.
He growled.
Sarabeth brought our coffees and then proceeded to take our orders.
