Page 162 of The Lineman

I chuckled. “You said that twenty minutes ago.”

Mike cracked an eye open, squinting at me. “You don’t know that.”

I smirked. “I do.”

He huffed but didn’t argue, rolling onto his back and stretching with a content little noise. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

Mike blinked. “Shit. Weneversleep this late.”

I grinned. “I know. It’s kinda nice.”

“I bet you’re starving.” He sighed, rubbing his face before peeking up at me. “Breakfast?”

I snorted. “If you think I’m cooking, you clearly haven’t recovered from last night.”

“Then I guess we’re heading back to Gina’s.”

“She’ll smell the sex on us.” I groaned. “She’s going to roast us alive.”

Mike sat up, stretching again before grinning at me. “You say that like you don’t love it.”

I narrowed my eyes.

He wasn’t wrong, though I refused to admit it.

The second we stepped inside the diner, we knew we were in trouble.

Gina caught sight of us and immediately smacked her order pad down onto the counter, her hands flying to her hips. “Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said, her voice carrying across the nearly empty room. “I thought y’all might be too ashamed to show your faces here again.”

Mike grinned. “Now, why would we be ashamed?”

Gina arched a brow. “Boy, you flirted with me, let me compliment that lineman of yours, then you both took your fine asses out of here without so much as a thank-you kiss or smack on the ass. Least you could’ve done was give me a little tickle for my trouble.”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Oh, my God.”

“Oh, don’t even start, sweetheart.” Gina laughed. “You know you love me. Why else would you come back two days in a row.”

“Because you’re the only restaurant in the mountains?” I asked.

She waved a hand. “You love me. Period. Plain and simple.”

Mike patted my back, grinning. “He really does.”

I shot him a look.

Gina smirked. “All right, sit your asses down before I make you cook your own damn food.”

We obeyed immediately.

Breakfast was just as ridiculous as dinner had been the night before. Gina made a scene of taking our order, loudly commenting on how Mike was “too pretty to be anything but trouble” and how she was “keeping a close eye onthatone” as she scribbled in her notepad.

By the time we left—after a fantastic breakfast of biscuits and gravy, eggs, and bacon—I had been thoroughly humiliated, Mike had laughed himself to tears, and Gina had made us promise to come back before we left town.

I didn’t even argue.

Because, honestly?

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