Page 125 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Just in time for the jokes.” Jared raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yep, he’s been standing in the corner, glaring at you for quite some time,” Pete confirmed.

“You want us to help him out the door?” George asked.

“No, he’s a...friend.” Cat wrinkled her nose as she said the word, hoping to make her feelings clear. Jared just sighed.

“Bartender, get these two gentlemen two more beers on me,” Jared said and threw a twenty on the bar. “Come on, Cat, let’s go get some dinner.”

Dinner did sound like a good idea. Waving goodbye to her companions, Cat followed him out the door.

“If you wanted a beer, you should have waited until after dinner,” Jared said.

“I didn’t want a beer, I wanted wine, but they didn’t have any,” Cat said, letting him lead her into the motel’s restaurant. “I was about to leave and come back to the room, but they bought me a beer, and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Heaven forbid,” Jared mocked her as he helped her into a booth.

Cat curled her lip at him and snapped open her menu. She was famished! When the waitress appeared, she ordered a full dinner plus dessert.

“And I’d love some coffee now, please, if it’s not too much trouble,” she said.

“Make it a decaf,” Jared said to the waitress.

“No.” Cat shook her head. “I want regular.”

“You’ll be up all night,” Jared argued.

“No, I won’t,” Cat insisted.

“Decaf,” Jared whispered to the waitress.

“Regular,” Cat said from between her teeth.

“Fine.” Jared snapped his menu shut. “But I don’t want to hear it when you’re wide awake at three in the morning.”

“You won’t.”

“How long have you two been married?” the waitress asked with a chuckle.

Cat and Jared glared at her.

“That long, eh?” the waitress asked as she walked away.

They ate dinner in silence, primarily because Cat was too busy eating to make conversation. Pleasantly full, she lingered over a second cup of coffee and a heaping helping of apple pie à la mode. Pausing, with her fork halfway to her mouth, she glanced at Jared. He was pinching the tips of his ears, looking completely agitated.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, expecting him to chastise her for her second cup of coffee.

“No,” he snapped.

“Then why are you rubbing the tips of your ears?” she asked. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“No,” he said and then changed the subject. “Do you always moan when you eat?”

“No.” Cat replaced her fork on the dish as she felt a hot flash creep up her neck. “Only when I’m enjoying my food. Why, does it bother you?”

“Yes.” Jared frowned, and then his mouth curved up into a slow, seductive and positively wicked grin. “That moan of yours makes the tips of my ears grow hot.”

“Oh,” Cat said, swallowing around the lump of apple in her throat.

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