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Her cheeks pinked up. “Oh. I keep falling asleep when I try to read it between…everything.”
“You can’t keep working yourself to the bone, babe. Something has to give, you know. And I don’t want it to be you falling over in exhaustion.”
“I know. Tab needs me right now.”
“Does she? Brady is there.”
“I know but—”
“But nothing. You need to let them get a routine going. And if Tab knew everything, she’d say the same.”
“I’m going to tell her. I just want to wait a little longer. Besides, everything should be all about her right now.”
I gripped her by the elbow and gently urged her away from the foot traffic that was getting thicker on the sidewalk. We were right near Brewed Awakening. “Yes, but I’m all about you.” I shifted toward her and laced my fingers over the small of her back. “You’re my priority.”
She laid her hands on my chest, her short nail tracing around stitching of my name patch on my vest. “I’ve never been someone’s priority.”
“Well, get used to it.”
“Maybe I could get used to it.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “What if I like it too much?”
“Then I’m doing my job.”
“I’m not a job, Maverick.”
“No, you’re just my whole life. Eventually, you’ll believe it.” I kissed her forehead. “Now let’s get you fed. I’m starving.”
Her stomach grumbled. “I guess I am too.”
“Good.” I hustled her across the street and opened the door of The Rusty Spoon, nudging her in ahead of me.
Polly, one of the full-time waitresses, waved us inside. We took a booth at the back of the diner, Van shoving her huge bag onto the bench seat.
“Usual?” Polly asked from the counter.
I nodded and she came over with two glasses of water and an iced tea for me.
“What’ll it be? Special is meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes with green beans a la Mitch.”
“A la Mitch?” Van blinked. “What’s that mean?”
“Means Mitch’s flavor of the week. This week, there’s a lot of garlic going on.”
“Oh.” Van wrinkled her nose as she laced her fingers on the table. “Silver dollar pancakes, bacon crispy and lots of butter, please.”
Polly nodded. “Officer Studly?”
Van grinned at me, her blue eyes sparkling. “Yes, Officer Studly. What’ll you have?”
I ignored them both. “I’ll have the hot open-faced turkey, please.”
“Fries or…”
“Oh, he’ll have the fries,” Van said quickly. “Extra gravy.”
“You got it.”
Once Polly left, Van pulled her water glass in front of her, twisting it in the shallow puddle of condensation. “Now that I actually have you here, there is something I want to talk about.” She glanced around, pitching her voice low. “I have some names I want to run by you.”
