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I feel for the fox. It’s a lot of responsibility that’s been thrust on her, and she’s doing well. Briony spends the most time with Mia, until finally, she comes back to me.
I’ve been spending the last hour adjusting leaky sinks, so I crawl out from one of them and nod. “What’s up?”
“I think we’re just about done here,” she says. “Let’s give them a little time to settle in.”
I nod.
And then, I ask the stupidest thing ever.
“Can I buy you lunch?”
The question looms in the air. It’s literally hanging over my head, gleaming there like some kind of neon light.
Or shimmering like a guillotine.
Briony narrows her eyes. “Why?”
“Because we’re both hungry, and I owe you.”
“Why do you owe me?”
I sigh. “Never mind. I’m just sorry for being a dick, and I thought I would feed you to make up for it.”
Her green eyes are in little slits, and she’s glaring at me. I’m sure that she’s going to reject me when, to my surprise, she turns.
“Fine. Sandwiches. Maybe a soup. At the Oakwood Café.”
She heads into the van, and I allow myself five heartbeats to be shocked.
Five to settle down.
And five to be excited before I grab my tools and hop into the driver’s seat.
She orders French onion soup.
I’m not sure why it sticks with me, but it does. It seems like the perfect thing for her to order. It could be boring or plain, but at the same time, it’s classic. It smells amazing, and I can tell that when Briony sips appreciatively, she likes it.
After I devour my club sandwich, I look up at the server and say, “I’ll have some of that too.”
Briony arches an eyebrow. “You like French onion soup?”
“No, but I think you just talked me into it.”
She laughs. “How?”
“When you sip it, your face does this little… it’s like you really like it,” I say lamely.
Honestly, it looks like she’s kind of swallowing a moan, but I can’t say that.
“Yeah. I do. It’s something that people say is really simple, but it’s actually pretty hard to do well.”
“It’s just onions, right?”
She nods. “Onions that you cook down and caramelize. It takes forever. Like forty-five minutes.”
The server sets the soup in front of me, and I tentatively sniff. “Shit, it smells great.”
“Try it,” Briony urges.
