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“What?” I frown.
He nods across the diner. “Over there.”
Turning to look, I see Ryan Steele sitting in a booth, sipping coffee. He’s not looking in my direction at first, but then he turns and sees me. I’m still staring at him when his mouth curls up into a half smile, and he silently salutes me with his coffee.
Turning back to Jimmy, I say, “I want to pay.”
But the big man shrugs. “It’s already paid for, Emma.”
“Then I’ll buy something else.”
“Paid for,” Jimmy comes back.
My eyes fly open wide.
“I’m just doing what I’m told,” he says, “and I was told that whatever you order, he’s paying for.”
“Is that right?” I huff.
Well, if he thinks he can buy my services, Ryan Steele doesn’t know me at all, and turning on my heels, I stride out of the diner without giving him a second look.
The next day, the same thing happens, and when Sharon returns from the diner with our sandwiches, she’s beside herself with delight. Yesterday, I kept the incident to myself. Sharon would only have made it a bigger deal than it was, and she’s already making it a big deal.
“Can you believe it? What a great guy.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You know what he’s doing.”
She grins at me. “Course I do,” she says. “But I thought it was the other way around.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes are twinkling when she says, “Well, I thought the way to aman’sheart was through his stomach.”
When I head to the diner the following day, I don’t even greet Jimmy. He gives me a knowing grin, and I throw my head back and sigh.
“This is ridiculous. How long is this going to go on?”
Jimmy just shrugs. If he does know, he’s certainly not telling me. All the reasoning in the world doesn’t change Jimmy’s mind, and then I finally realize that he’s an ice hockey fan. Or should I say, a Ryan Steele fan?
I’m heading back to the diner with our lunch when Ryan appears from nowhere and falls into step beside me.
“Hi,” he says.
I stop walking and turn to look at him. “This has to stop.”
“Why?” he says, a smile dancing at the corner of his mouth. “It’s just lunch.”
“It’s bribery, and you know it.”
He tilts his head and looks thoughtful; then he says, “I see it as more of an investment.”
“Investment usually involves you getting a return, Mr. Steele, and that isn’t going to happen here,” I reply firmly.
But my words seem to bounce off him, and with that same air of confidence, he says, “What is it those investment bankers say? Your capital is at risk, and there are no guarantees.”
I really don’t know what to say to that, and so, I just stare at him in astonishment.
When I don’t reply, he nods to my head. “Nice hat, by the way.”