Page 98 of Beyond the Badge: Crew

“No it’s not.”

“It is.” She dropped her napkin to the table. “I take that move as the declaration of your intent.”

“Behave.”

Her eyebrows jerked up her forehead. “Behave? You’re tellingmeto behave? You just whipped a pork product at me.”

“I didn’t whip it.”

She shook her head. “You’re crazy—”

She was driving him to the edge of his sanity.

“—if you think I’m not going to retaliate.”

As he opened his mouth, a “How’s your breakfast?” had him snapping it back closed.

He reluctantly turned his attention from Cabrera to the waitress. “Delicious.”

“Can I get you two anything else?”

“Just the check, please,” he said quickly. They needed to get the hell out of there before things turned into a real battle.

“My father is struggling with arthritis. He accidentally dropped a sausage link on the floor. I’m so sorry for that.”

“Oh, no bother. Food gets dropped all the time. We’ll clean it up,” the waitress said, pulling her pad out of her apron and tearing off the check before placing it next to Crew’s plate. “I deal with a little arthritis myself. Try dipping them in warm paraffin wax. That helps me with the pain.”

“He’d have to be supervised for that,” Cabrera happily told her. “We had to unplug the stove so he didn’t leave it on unattended.”

The waitressaww’d in sympathy. “We all get to that point where we’re forgetful.”

“It’s unfortunate.” Cabrera shot a smirk across the table at him.

“Well, you can take the check up to the register when you’re ready. And if you need anything else, just yell.”

“Thank you,” he muttered.

The waitress patted his shoulder. “Getting old stinks, doesn’t it?” With that, she spun on her heels and left them alone.

“Make sure you don’t choke on that steak,” he warned.

She laughed. “You don’t know the Heimlich?”

He shook his head. “Iforgothow to do it. You know, since I’m old and forgetful.”

They managed to finish their lukewarm breakfasts without any further food flying or verbal jabs since their mouths were busy eating.

After paying the bill, he followed her outside.

Since his Harley was parked near the entrance, he paused and watched her walk to the far end of the lot where she parked her Audi. Most likely to avoid door dings since the lot was now filling up with hungry early risers.

He watched her ass rock and roll in those skintight fake leather pants.

If he was smart, he’d let her go.

He sighed. Apparently, he wasn’t.

He called out, “Hey, Cabrera!”

---