Page 77 of Dining for Love

He rolls his eyes. “Please.”

I grab the plates and pivot away, furious and also entirely freaked out. Mom eyes me as I return and grab a to-go box.

“Something wrong with the food?”

Then I remember the booth is the only one hidden from where Mom works at the counter, and I have to wonder if he chose that spot on purpose.

I shake myself. I’ve spent too much time around Reid: I’m finding suspicious behavior lurking behind every corner. And Thompson may be an asshole, but he’s an asshole who’s a police officer.

Naturally, he leaves no tip.

The next few hours fly by, and soon enough, I’m helping Dad clean the kitchen and get a few things prepped for tomorrow. Before long, he shoos me away. “I’ve got other people who work here, you know,” he chides.

“Yeah, but how many of them can slice a tomato that pretty?” I joke, untying my apron and giving him a kiss on his fleshy cheek. He smells of Old Spice and the grill, a scent that is perfectly Dad in the best kind of way. “Love you, Dad.”

He squeezes me to his side. “Love you too, Pumpkin. Now get out of here.”

I give Mom a hug as well, reveling in her strong embrace. The woman is a championship hug-giver, and I make sure to get at least one per shift.

At home, I find Reid in the backyard like always, Midnight frolicking around him. The kitten’s cast is entirely off, thanks toMatty’s care. She darts up to me, batting at my shoelaces as I close the distance to Hottie Boombalottie playing guitar in the Adirondack chair.

“Hey, you.” I sink into his lap as he sets the guitar aside.

He nuzzles my neck. “You don’t smell nearly as much like onion rings as you normally do.”

I laugh. “Because I waitressed today.”

He pulls away. “Did anyone get hurt?”

“Meanie,” I giggle, attempting to swat at him.

He captures my hand with his and brings it to his lips, kissing it instead.

I will not fall for him. I will not fall for himgoes through my head. But who am I kidding? I fell for the guy pretty much right after I almost literally fell for him.

Then I sniff. “Wait a minute.”

He raises his eyebrows and grins. “I was wondering when you’d smell that.”

I look around. “Since when did your rental house come with a smoker?”

“Since I had Bob from the hardware store deliver and assemble it for me this morning,” comes the smug answer.

“And what, pray tell, is in there?”

“Oh, come on now. You can’t use your highly-trained sniffer to figure that out?”

I purse my lips. “Fine.” Then I stand up, pick Midnight up for a cuddle, and take a few steps toward the smoker on the back porch.

“No cheating!” Reid calls.

“Ribs,” I announce, turning to him triumphantly.

“That’s my girl,” he says with a grin. He wraps an arm around me and leads me to the grill, but I’m still trying to process what just came out of his mouth.

That’s my girl?

Since when?

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