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“Don’t ruin coffee for me.”
Snorting, I took her over to a booth and returned to the counter to grab our drinks.
Tucking the menu under my arm, I saw the server glowering at MaryCat when a thought occurred to me.
“Spit in her food, or mine for that matter, and you’ll wish you hadn’t been born.”
She gulped but bobbed her head double quick.
Grunting, I returned to the booth, placed her coffee in front of her, then took a seat. My ass ached too, so it was good to just sit.
I passed her the menu but didn’t bother looking at it.
“I’m not hungry,” she muttered.
“You need the energy. We’ve been on the road a long while.”
“Trust me, I know.”
I hid a smile but warned, “The night ain’t over either, MaryCat. You should eat.”
She yawned. “Maybe just a sandwich or something?”
“Go for it.”
Because I always had the same order, I cast the server a glance and she stepped over to us.
Warily.
Good.
“Are you ready to order?”
MaryCat cleared her throat. “I’ll have the egg salad sandwich, please.”
“Meatloaf with potatoes. And cherry pie for after. Thanks.”
When the woman shuffled away, MaryCat asked, “Is she going to spit in my food because you’re with me?”
Amused that we’d had the same thought, I simply said, “No.”
She jerked her chin up. “Okay. Not sure I can handle bodily fluids today.”
I grinned. “Just today?”
Her cheeks burned hotly.
“She won’t spit in your food,” I assured her, the curve of my lips deepened though.
“You should probably do something about that.”
Blinking, I asked, “What?”
MaryCat wafted her hand at me. “Your face. I’m going to get a lot ofcrap from waitresses otherwise.”
My face?
I smirked.
