Page 8 of Crash’s Secret

He doesn’t return her smile. “Ask her first.”

“Three steak tacos and a lemonade.”

The waitress writes it down without looking at me. Then she turns back to Crash like I’ve stopped existing.

“And you?”

“A chicken enchilada.”

“That’s it?” She tilts toward him, dropping her voice. “You usually want a lot more than that.”

There it is. She might as well have hung a banner.

I study the salsa caddy. Of course they’ve slept together. He’s slept with half the county.

He doesn’t grin. “That’s it.”

He slides both menus across the counter and gives her a look that ends the conversation. A look that I’ve never once seen him aim at a woman.

She blinks. Her eyes flick to me for the first time—down, up, and dismissing.

“Sure thing.” She’s sweet again, and her hand grazes his forearm on the way to collecting the menus. “Holler if you change your mind. You know I take care of you.”

“Just the food.”

She clenches her teeth, then straightens and walks away.

I turn the salsa caddy a quarter turn. “She seems nice.”

“Don’t.”

I cough, holding back a laugh. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re saying it with your whole face.”

I prop my chin on my hand. “My face is minding its own business.”

He picks up his water and drinks instead of responding.

The tacos arrive. A different server brings them.

“Interesting,” I say.

“Eat your food.”

I eat my food. It’s good, and I tell him so.

He relaxes, and for twenty minutes we’re just us. He tells me about the night Jinx got patched and how Viper was stabbed, but that led him to meeting his Old Lady. He asks about California and listens to the answers, asks follow-ups, and asks how my roommate’s wedding went. I didn’t tell him about the wedding. Saber must have. Which means he was listening when my brother talked about me.

He remembers everything.

He stands. “Bathroom. Don’t try to pay while I’m gone. Wouldn’t want you telling Saber I didn’t buy you tacos.”

“No promises.”

I’m still smiling at my plate when a stool scrapes on my other side a minute later.

“Now what is a pretty little thing like you doing all alone?”