“What’s good here?” he asks, throwing his menu down on the table.
Me, I think with naughty intentions, before thinking better of it. “The steak and eggs are pretty good...” I shrug. “But if you want to make me happy, then get something like the breakfast platter and make sure there are plenty of leftovers.”
Ronan’s eyes draw in concern. He seems to immediately understand. “You eat your customers scraps?”
I hate feeling like I’m being judged, but that’s exactly how I feel at his comment, whether he means it or not. If this guy actually likes me, he’s not doing a great job of being consistent about it. A little wave of shame washes over me as I react to his reaction and remember his little ‘waitress’ comment from last night. “A girl’s got to eat,” I tell him.
He considers my answer thoughtfully, before offering a response of his own. “What time do you get off work tonight?”
“After your bedtime,” I immediately snap.
Ronan smiles—my heart struggles against my brain.
“I don’t have a bedtime,” he says.
My toes curl in my shoes. “Good for you.”
“Let me take you out.”
I don’t know if I was fully expecting him to say that. Sure, we’d been playing figurative footsie just now, but this dude has been a menace to me for the past two nights, two of the most harrowing nights in my life, and now he’s asking me out on a date? He must be crazy. Still...
My skin tingles with excitement at the thought of all the fun I could have with him. A hunky Irish bad boy with a dark side? If I was smart, I’d run in the opposite direction right now, but I’m not feeling smart, I’m feeling hot and heavy. There’s a connection between us that I can’t deny, and it’s pulling on me like a bungee cord. I imagine he’s feeling the same way, why else would he risk coming back here so soon after he’d been involved in two crimes at this very spot?
Maybe he is crazy...
... But maybe I’m crazy, too.
Maybe we’re just going crazy for each other.
“No,” my brain blurts out, before my heart can have a say in the matter. I’m flustered beyond recognition, but I immediately regret my rejection. I do want more excitement in my life. I need more excitement. I need him. I mentally cross my fingers and hope that Ronan’s not the type of guy who takes no for an answer.
The hunky Irishman eyes me with curiosity. He doesn’t seem disheartened by the rejection, more intrigued. “How about I just walk you home tonight, then. There’s a lot of bad guys out there, you know.”
I try to stifle my smile. “There’s a bad guy in here.”
Ronan doesn’t hold back his own smile. “But this bad guy’s on your side.”
I can’t argue with him there, or, rather, I could, but I don’t want to. Besides, he has a point. Carlos has already told me he’s taking the Blue Line home again tonight, so I’d be on my own again. There’s no way I’m staying at Chelly’s for another terrifying night. I’ve already had two close calls here in a row, and I’m not trying to find out what a third one might have in store for me.
“... Fine,” I surrender to him. “But I’m getting you the steak and eggs and the breakfast platter right now. So, I hope you can afford it. Don’t matter that it’s after noon. I want my scraps.”
“You’re the boss,” Ronan replies, sinking into the cushions of his booth’s couch.
“Who was that,” Carlos asks, the next time I’m in the kitchen.
The nosy minx.
“Nobody,” I lie.
Ronan has already eaten his food and left his scraps, as well as two crisp hundred-dollar bills, and gone back out into the world. I told him to meet me back here at 11pm and he agreed. I didn’t tell him that it meant I’d be closing Chelly’s earlier than usual, and that I’d be giving up a few hours of overtime pay. He doesn’t need to know that I’m already willing to do that for him—plus, the little tip he left already more than makes up for the hours I’ll lose.
... He was unexpectedly sweet for such a big brute. And, as Carlos clearly noticed, he’s also fine as hell.
“Didn’t look like nobody to me,” Carlos teases. “Even from behind my flames, I saw sparks between the two of you.”
“Jealous much?” I tease back.
“Yes!” he laughs.