Beautiful Burn (The Maddox Brothers, #4)(50)

“I don’t know why you don’t just write it yourself. She used most of your manuscript for the magazine. She didn’t even credit herself.”

I smiled, filling my hand with water and rinsing out the sink. “That was pretty cool. I thought it was crap, but she cleaned it up a little bit and called it good.”

“Chief said he’s gotten a lot of phone calls about the story. The brass like the positive press it’s brought to the crew.”

“It didn’t get picked up by the AP like Wick had hoped.”

“Yet,” Tyler said as I turned off the faucet. “So you’re going to work?”

“Yeah … go ahead.”

“Nah, I’ll wait. It’s kinda nice being alone with you.”

I fetched my laptop, and then sat with Tyler in the TV room. He lifted the remote and turned on the television, keeping the volume down while I typed. The process was a bit easier this time, matching numbered photos to corresponding accounts.

Not quite an hour after we’d sat down, Tyler reached down and lifted my legs, lowering them over his lap. He settled back against the sofa cushions, looking sleepy but content.

“Hungry?” I asked, clicking SEND.

“All done?” Tyler said, watching me close my laptop.

“Yes. Finished. Let’s eat.”

We rode into town in Tyler’s truck, his ridiculously loud exhaust pipes announcing to everyone within a three-mile radius that we were back. He stopped in a small café I’d never been to, but where he seemed to be familiar.

The waitress looked both surprised and overly enthusiastic about seeing him, but Tyler didn’t seem to notice.

“Uh, just waters for now. You want OJ, Ellie?” Tyler asked, still reading over the menu.

“Yes, please,” I said.

“Two,” Tyler said, holding up his index and middle finger. When the waitress left, he lowered his index finger, leaving me a charming gesture for a few seconds before putting it away.

“Back atcha,” I grumbled. I pretended to be annoyed, but it was hard to stay mad at him when his dimple was working its magic.

“Orange juice. Two,” the waitress said, setting down two glasses. “Who’s this, Tyler?”

She was smiling when she asked the question, but a familiar glint was in her eye. She took in my clothes, my hair, even my jagged fingernails and chipped polish, wondering what it was about me that had enticed Tyler Maddox enough to buy me breakfast.

“This is Ellison,” Tyler said, the grin on his face breaking out into a full-blown smile.

“Ellison?” the waitress asked. “Edson?”

I cringed, wondering which story she’d heard and how satisfying to her it would be to realize I wasn’t competition after all.

“Yes?” I said, trying to meet her condescending gaze. Life was a collection of stories, and I couldn’t let her judge me for a few chapters.

“You know my cousin, Paige. She talks about you a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah. Tell her I said hi,” I said, surprised at how relieved I was.

“Hi? That’s it?” the waitress said, her voice tinged with disdain.

“Emily, c’mon. Can we order?” Tyler said, impatient.

Emily pulled out her pad and pen, her lips pursed.

“The waffles,” Tyler said.

“Peanut butter and whip with warm maple?” she asked.

“Yep,” Tyler said.

Emily looked to me.

“Oh, uh … I’ll have two eggs, over medium, and bacon. Burned.”

“Burned?” Emily asked.

“Crispy fried.”

She shook her head. “I’ll tell the cook. Anything else?”

“That’s it,” I said. Emily walked away, and I leaned against the table. “She’s going to spit in my food.”

“Do you know her?” Tyler asked.

“No. I’m not sure if she hates me because of something she thinks I did to Paige, or because I’m with you.”

“Maybe both. Girls are weird that way.”

“Oh my f*ck, Tyler. Could you be more of a misogynist?”

“Am I wrong?”

“About what? I’m not even sure I know what you meant.”

“But you knew enough to be offended.”

“I hate you today.”

“I can tell,” he said. “I would say you need a drink, but…”

“No. My luck, we’d get called to a political fire, and I’d be puking my guts out.”

Tyler smiled at the jargon. A political fire was anything big enough to make CNN, something everyone was dispatched to, and the only reason I would ever know that was by living with the twenty-man crew who would be sent to one.

“I didn’t realize you knew that term,” Tyler said.

“I sort of have to pay attention for my job.”

“You’re really good at it, Ellie. I’m glad Jojo gave you a raise, but I saw on the Internet the other day that they’re paying photographers six figures a year to shoot pics of national forests.”

“Really?”

“I was looking into National Geographic, too. That seems a little harder to get into, but not impossible.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You trying to get rid of me, hotshot?”