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She looks up at me as she chews then swallows. “What?”
I shake my head and start on my salad, although now I want a patty melt. Or a bacon cheeseburger. It’s not like I would die if I had a burger. It’s just that I have to limit myself. I miss the days of not worrying about heart attacks.
She tears off a piece of the uneaten half of her patty melt and offers it to me.
“No, thank you.”
A rude sound vibrates from her throat. “I didn’t take a bite off that side. I promise.”
I shake my head, opening my mouth to argue with her. Avery has other plans. She pops up off her seat, reaches across the table, and shoves the small bite into my mouth.
At first, I can’t believe she did that. What am I thinking? Of course, she did. She’s Avery Freaking O’Bryan, and she does what she pleases.
I either need to spit it out or eat it. And right now, I can feel people watching us, as if we’re on display. If I spit it out, it will cause more attention to swing our way. So, I chew it.
It’s everything I remember from my boyhood. Cheesy, greasy goodness. Lord, it’s incredible.
“One little taste isn’t going to kill you.”
Is she just talking about the patty melt? Probably. I’m still half hard from our interaction thirty minutes ago, and she seemed utterly unaffected. I bet just about everything sounds like a double entendre to me.
“No.”
“No, it won’t, or just, no?”
“I agree with you, but I have to watch what I eat. Family history.”
She nods. “That makes sense.”
Then she focuses back on her food. The exchange has left me a little off-center. Let’s be honest. I’ve been off-center since the moment she landed on top of me.
“He followed us.”
She’s speaking in a furious whisper. I look up, then follow her line of sight behind me. Mr. Creeper has arrived at the diner. He gets seated far away from us, but something is definitely off about the guy. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to us, but I get this feeling that he’s watching us out of the corner of his eye.
“Why do you think he’s stalking you?”
“Wait, why do you think he’s stalking me? He was there before I got there, right?”
“Yes. But he never ventured out after me until you came to town.”
“Coincidence.”
Although, my gut tightens. There was something off, and while I never directly worked for the CIA or the FBI, I did a lot of contract work with them. Or I did at one time. It held no interest for me anymore, and I didn’t need the money.
“There is no such thing as coincidence.”
I blink and look at her. Like my grandmother said, Avery is brilliant. Hard to see it under the insanity that seems to revolve around her, but it’s there. I decide to call my last FBI contact to see if he can dig anything up on the guy.
“Did you find out his name?”
She shakes her head, then looks around the restaurant, grabbing her phone. After sending a text, she sets the phone back down and starts eating again. Her phone pings, and she looks at it, still shoving tots into her mouth.
“Anything?”
She shakes her head. After swallowing a bite, she says, “Mrs. Petersen will start working on it. Shouldn’t take long to get his name.”
Before I can respond, the waitress returns with two massive shakes. Vanilla for me and chocolate for Avery.
