Page 6

A minute later, the waitress materializes. Her gray hair is spun into a bun so tight it looks like it could stop a bullet. The name tag pinned crooked on her chest reads “Bev.” She slaps two laminated menus onto the table in front of us.

“Breakfast or lunch?” she asks, still not looking at us.

“Lunch,” I say, because I hate breakfast food no matter what time of day it is.

She turns the laminated menus over. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Coke Zero.” I don’t glance down at the menu. I already know what I want.

Harrison glances up. “Whatever’s on tap.”

She barely nods. “I’ll be back to get your orders.” Bev obviously doesn’t like to waste words.

I glance at Harrison across the table. “They have the best cheeseburgers.”

“Sounds great.” He slings his arm across the back of the booth.

Bev returns with our drinks and stares down at us with a raised eyebrow. Damn. She really doesn’t like to waste words.

“Two cheeseburgers, both with fries,” I order for both of us.

Bev grunts in approximate agreement and disappears into the void.

For a minute, there’s nothing to do but sip my Coke and listen to the ceiling fan threaten to launch itself into orbit.

I’m about to start in with empty small talk when Harrison beats me to it.

“You come here a lot?”

It’s a harmless question, but there’s an edge to it.

“Used to. When I was a kid, my dad would drag me in for lunch on the weekends. I always got fries and a cherry Coke, and he’d bullshit with Lou like they were old war buddies. After he retired, it became less of a thing.”

Harrison watches me, chin propped on his hand. He looks… interested. Like the story is actually for him, not just space-filler.

“Retired from what?” he asks.

I almost laugh. Not what you think. “Owning the bar. My dad started The Sin Bin before I was born. Ran it for three decades, then decided he’d had enough. After I graduated from Arizona State last year, he sold me half of it and became my silent partner. Then he moved to Toledo Bend so he could go fishing every damn day.”

There’s pride in my voice, and I don’t bother to hide it.

He laughs, low and genuine. For a second, I can almost see what he must’ve looked like as a kid. Mischief, pure and undiluted.

“Were you always planning to take over?” he asks.

I shrug. “Not really. I thought I’d move to California and get a desk job.” I shrug. “But I missed Houston and The Sin Bin.”

Bev brings our food out a few minutes later. The burgers are the size of my fist, and the fries are hot enough to burn fingerprints off.

Harrison digs in like he hasn’t eaten in days. I pop a fry in my mouth and moan, just a little. Worth it.

The fan above us clatters like it’s trying to drown out the conversation. Harrison leans forward, eyes sharp.

He nods and lets the conversation roll. “You got a good crew?”

“Best. Marcy’s been my best friend since grade school. She teaches first grade during the week and works a few weekend shifts a month to help out. Almost everyone has been there since my dad ran the place.”

He grins, mouth full of fries. “Sounds like a family.”