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He grinned. “I’ll bet,” he said as she looked at her watch and frowned.
“You late for something?” he asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I was supposed to meet a friend here—”
“She just called. She’s not going to make it,” Damon said as he reappeared behind the bar.
Jackson got that same sensation on the back of his neck.
Becky grew up here, so she would know Anna. Chances are they’d been friends. Anna had never officially been on the payroll, but Damon ran a very lean payroll that suggested he probably paid some staff in cash, and Anna and Becky seemed about the same age. He wondered what college Becky had gone to.
Her eyebrows creased for a second as she looked at her father, but she didn’t question him.
“Too bad,” Jackson said with a charming smile. “You’ll have to talk to me for a bit.”
Becky turned to him, a smile curling her lips. “You hungry?”
“Starved,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m a typical man. I’m always hungry.”
“Let’s get a table and I’ll treat you to a burger. They’re the best in town,” she said playfully.
Jackson chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. You order but I’ll pay—then we have a deal.”
She gave an approving nod then picked up her glass. “This way,” she said as she led him through to a traditional dining room that didn’t match the roughness of the front bar. Wood paneling lined the walls, intermixed with floral wallpaper, and about twenty wooden tables and chairs filled the room.
Jackson couldn’t vouch for the food, but the smell of the kitchen made his stomach growl.
Becky led him to a table in the corner and took a seat. He sat across from her and looked around. “Quite a contrast from the front bar,” he said.
She grinned. “The bar is for fun. This is for civilization.”
Jackson laughed. “How rowdy does it get in the front?”
She shook her head slowly, her eyes widening. “Whatever you can imagine, I’m sure my father has seen it.”
Jackson nodded. He thought Damon had indeed seen everything.
A waitress appeared at their table. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, dressed in jeans, a knit sweater, and an apron that readSloan’s Kitchen.
Jackson could almost see Anna in this, and with every minute that passed he was surer that she must’ve worked here—and that accounted for the protectiveness in Damon’s eyes he’d seen on his first visit.
He would also bet his life that the phone call Damon made had been to Anna, and she was the one Becky was supposed to meet.
So now his job was to carefully glean information from Becky without raising suspicion, because she was no fool.
“We’ll have two Sloan’s burgers, loaded with fries. Thanks, Jess,” she said.
Jackson liked that she used Jess’s name. She obviously knew her, and she didn’t speak to her like staff but rather like a friend.
“Do you know all the staff here? Know them well, I mean,” he asked casually.
She shrugged. “My father has always operated on the motto of ‘treat your employees like family.’ He taught me that from a very young age. He says, no matter what you do in life, look after people like family and they’ll have your back if you ever need it.”
“He sounds like my father,” Jackson said honestly. His father was one of the best people he knew—the kindest, most generous. He’d give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it.
Becky crossed her arms on the table, leaning forward. “You were raised by a good man, then,” she said with a gentle smile. “Tell me more about your family.”
Jackson knew the story he should give her—his alias story—but he knew Becky wouldn’t be impressed by that. She wouldn’t open up to him if he gave her the run of the mill. She’d sense it.
