Page 161 of Gunner

“Hmm. That actually sounds feasible.”

“You have the background, and with all the crime in Smoky Vale, I’m sure business would thrive.”

“I’ll need to give it some thought, but it’s a solid suggestion.”

The food arrived hot and just as delicious as I remembered. We ate mostly in silence and watched one of the big screens. A football game was playing, and Ben seemed into it.

“You a fan of sports?” I asked.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You kidding me? I’ve been too busy with the case lately, but I usually make time to visit the games. They’re even better live than watching on a screen.”

“Then we should go.”

He tore his gaze away from the game and blinked at me. “Go where?”

“To one of the games.”

“Sure. Didn’t know you were into football.”

“Just a passing interest. Back in high school, I had a knack for it, but I missed school too often, so I didn’t make the team.”

“Yeah? That could have been a game changer in your life.”

I shrugged. “It’s pretty good from where I’m sitting.”

Ben smiled. “It’ll be hard to scrounge up tickets this late.”

“I have my ways.”

“I bet you do.”

He slid his boot forward and rubbed it against mine. I raised my eyebrow. “Before you play this game, Ben, you should remember I am shameless.”

Laughing, he pulled back his leg. “Food’s really good. I’m glad we stayed.”

I glanced around the pub. The frames on the deep red walls held decades of memories, and the bar top looked weathered by the years of elbows that had rested on it. The mismatched tables and chairs scattered around gave the room a cozy and homey vibe. Who cared about some blemishes on the booths?

“You’re all right, Witter,” I said.

He cocked his head. “What’d you mean?”

But I didn’t reply. He got excited over the football game, and it hit me. Despite all the crap we’d been dealing with, it wasn’t all doom and gloom for us. The waiter refilled our glasses. I asked about their dessert and was told they only served cheesecake.

“Ben.”

“Hmm?”

“You eat cheesecake?”

“Love it.”

I nodded and asked the waiter to bring us a slice. I loathed the taste, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have it. He could have everything he wanted so long as it was in my power to give it to him.

We lingered at our table until the game ended. We split the bill—he insisted—and left a generous tip. Ben hadn’t eaten his cheesecake, too busy watching the game, so he took it with him. When he stepped out, he let the door swing back, and I caught it a second before it smashed into my face.

“Ass,” I yelled at him while he laughed.

“Just a bit of payback. Be a gentleman and hold the door for me next time.”

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