“You weren’t rescued.”
“Good.”
“You were corrected.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Corrected?”
“Yeah.”
“That might be worse.”
“Probably.”
She laughed under her breath and shook her head.
I ate another bite and told myself not to get used to the sound. That’d be stupid. I wasn’t here for anything except to make sure she’d eaten. That’s what I told myself anyway.
I reached for a fry. “What time did you get here this morning?”
She winced. “Six.”
I stared at her. “What?” I asked.
“Six?” she repeated.
“Don’t say it like you don’t know.” She damn well knew what time she got here, and also knew that it was insane that she was still here.
“I needed to prep.”
“You opened at ten.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still here.”
“I also know that.”
“That’s a fifteen-hour day.”
She took another bite of burger. “I’m aware.”
“You trying to burn out in a week?”
“No.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She set the burger down and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I didn’t have anyone else today. It was opening day. I wanted everything to go right.”
“Did it?”
She looked around the shop. Her expression softened, and all the irritation slid off her face for a second. “Yeah,” she said. “It did.”
There it was again.
That same look I’d seen earlier through the window.
Pride.
