Page 35 of Look at Her and Die

I knew what down on your luck looked like, and Fiona definitely had the look.

Reluctantly, I walked up to the table housing two bikers—both with their club cuts on the backs of their chairs instead of on their backs for some reason—and the woman.

The woman was gorgeous.

Black hair, blue eyes.

She was tanned, but not overly so.

She was everything that I wasn’t.

Put together, she had nice clothes and not a single hair was out of place despite her just being on the back of Posy’s bike.

“What can I get y’all?” I asked abruptly, not bothering with a greeting.

I kept my eyes anywhere but on the man that fascinated me and simultaneously made me so angry I could spit.

The real question was, why did seeing him with another woman make me so angry?

The man sitting with Posy today looked fancy.

Well, not really “fancy’”as much as polished.

His jeans fit, and they weren’t worn in all the right places like Posy’s were. He had on a t-shirt that said NO BULL across the front that showed off clearly defined muscles. However, that shirt looked brand new, like he hadn’t worn it a single time yet. Meanwhile, Posy had on a shirt that was smeared with something brown, that I was sincerely hoping was dirt and not shit.

But, since he owned a ranch, there really was no telling unless I was willing to get up close and smell it.

“What can I get y’all?” I repeated when no one said anything.

“Are you doing something other than the grilled cheese today?” Posy asked, voice filled with mirth.

I wasn’t in a bad mood just yet, at least I shouldn’t be anyway, but the day was still young.

“No, you can order from the regular menu if you’re interested,” I offered, still not looking him in the eyes. “It is eight in the morning, though. People tend to want to order off a breakfast menu.”

He wasn’t.

He ordered his usual with a grin, letting me know that he was aware that he’d just annoyed me by asking me that question and then doing the exact opposite of what the question alluded to.

I didn’t say anything as I kept my eyes on the notepad instead of looking up at him like my mind was screaming at me to do.

“I’ll have the sampler,” the other biker said, causing me to look up. “I’m starving. Is it a lot of food?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Four eggs, two bacon, two sausage, two biscuits, one thick slice of French toast and two pancakes.”

“Damn,” he said. “Can you add some toast to it?”

“It’ll be an extra dollar,” I answered.

“That’s fine.” He patted his belly. “I feel like I could hack it.”

“You’re an anesthesiologist,” the woman chirped. “Of course you can afford it.”

“Silver, you don’t know me,” the other biker said.

“I think since you’re married to my sister,” the woman, Silver, said, “I know you pretty well.”

I walked off, definitely not in the mood for their banter.

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