Do You Take This Man (77)

RJ emptied what had to be half the syrup over her plate, and I bit back a laugh.

She motioned to my plate with an expectant expression. “I’m telling you. They’re the best. Just get ready to eat your words,” she said, with the fork poised between the table and her mouth.

I dragged the knife across the waffle slowly. “Don’t rush me, woman. I have a process.”

She rolled her eyes and took a bite. I immediately forgot my process when she let her eyes fall closed and moaned. “So good. It’s like . . .” RJ paused, eyes snapping open.

“No, keep going. It’s like . . .” I motioned for her to continue, enjoying how the embarrassment shifted her features subtly.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m really interested.” Under the table, my foot bumped into hers. “What are they like?”

“Just taste it.” RJ pointed to my plate. “You’ll see.”

I left my foot where it was, the gesture feeling so bold, despite my having enjoyed so much of her body. I still glanced away instead of maintaining our eye contact, waiting for her to pull away or shut me down, but she didn’t.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, setting my knife aside. “Is eating this in public appropriate, though? You looked like you were really having a moment.”

She shifted her foot then, but it was to kick me, and I laughed. RJ’s reaction had not been unwarranted. The waffle was good. Really good, and it was only me refusing to give her the satisfaction that stopped me from moaning just like she had.

“Told you so.” RJ’s smug smile returned, and I couldn’t stop focusing on the pressure of her foot next to mine. “When will you learn not to question me?”

“I bow to the queen.” My mock bow earned me a shift from her smug smile to a real one. “How did you find this place?”

She shrugged. “I drive around sometimes, just to get out of my head and think. I never know where I’m going, never plan to be anywhere, and I found this place.”

“You were driving around the night you called me at my uncle’s place. You seem like someone who always has a plan, but maybe not.”

“Not always,” she said, voice dipping lower. “I needed to think that night.”

My heart rate sped up because I knew I was asking for trouble, and today of all the days, I should have known better. “Needed to think about me?”

She met my gaze, and her mouth opened like she was about to say something. She hadn’t moved her foot. Her expression didn’t look pinched or pained, and despite my resolve to play it cool, I hoped she was going to say something real.

The waitress’s voice cut between us, and RJ’s facade snapped back into place, her foot suddenly gone from the space next to mine. “How’s everything tasting over here?”

“You know it’s perfect,” RJ said, turning her smile to the server.

“More syrup?” She eyed RJ’s plate and laughed.

She was a lovely woman, and yet I’d never wanted someone to leave as much as I did in that moment. When she finally did, RJ looked down at her plate and took a big bite into her mouth before looking back up.

“Were you going to say something?” I took my own bite, trying to appear casual, like the last two minutes hadn’t left me picturing the way RJ’s lips parted.

She shook her head, mouth still full.

“Did you take a big enough bite there?”

RJ still chewed, but held up a middle finger, earning a pointed cough from the woman with three small children at the table next to us.

“Nice. Really nice,” I said as she pulled back her hand. “Corrupting young children now?”

She flipped me off again, this time shielding her hand with the other and covering her laugh.

“For shame, Brooks. For shame.” I sat back in the booth, enjoying my bite. “The youth of America just wanted breakfast, and now . . .”

“Jerk,” she muttered when she finally swallowed. “I didn’t know the kids were there.”

“I’m shocked at this poor behavior.” I clucked my tongue like my aunt Bette used to do. “Were you going to, um, say something before, though?”

“Nothing important.” She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope, handing it to me across the table. “Here, though.”

“What’s this?” It was a nondescript white envelope, but it was sealed. “Are you serving me a summons or something?”

“No.” She set her fork down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

I was about to call out her avoidance of my question and guide her back to answering, but she spoke again.

“I wasn’t sure you would want to know, which is why I sealed it.”

I glanced down at the envelope, noticing her foot was against mine again.

“I found his name. Your, or rather . . . the kid.” She searched my face, her speech speeding up. “It just seemed like you wanted to know, and I thought if I could find out for you, you wouldn’t have to do the searching, and then you’d know.”

I rubbed a finger along the edge of the paper.

“But if you don’t want to know, or if I overstepped . . .” She reached out and grabbed the envelope. “It was probably a dumb idea. I’ll throw it away.”