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“Emi?”

“Yeah, I had to cancel on her last night because we got word of the gambling ring. So, now, I’m going to go home, shower and pick her up at seven.”

“You cooking?”

“Steaks,” I confirm and regret it when the look of hunger passes across his face. “Don’t even think about crashing.”

“What? Can’t you spare a little for your best friend? I’d like to get to know this woman better.”

“I’ll tell you what I told her. If we get interrupted, I’ll shoot first and answer questions later.”

He laughs, raising his hands in the air. “You should thank me. I’m the one who pushed your ass.”

“You didn’t push shit. I had it under control.”

“Whatever you say.” He crosses his arms and remains blocking my door.

“You gonna move?”

“Not yet, I’m enjoying this.”

“Enjoying what? Me leaving work? You need to get a life.”

“This going to become a habit?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

“You dating the fiery, cute, town spitfire that has you wanting to rip heads off?”

There’s amusement in his tone, and I know there’s another reason he’s here. “Again, what the fuck are you talking about?”

His cocky smirk appears and he starts to snicker. “John and his wife were at the same restaurant Sunday night, saw you and Emi.”

“It was a public restaurant, Marcus. You knew I was taking her to dinner. Not surprised someone saw us.”

“He said you became a little possessive when the waiter smiled at her. His words were, ‘Walker Scott growled loud enough for the whole place to hear’.”

“You guys actually are a bunch of gossip whores. That shit is ridiculous.” I try to mask my irritation, but the waiter’s face pops in my head and I find myself growling again. “And for your knowledge, that shithead did more than smile at her.”

“How about the fact his wife described you as ‘glued to her side’? Last time I checked, tables have four sides.”

“Are you shitting me? You’re going to bust my ass about how close to her I sat?”

“Not busting your ass, just telling you what I heard.”

“Is that why you’re really here, to fill me in on useless news that means nothing?”

His eyes study my face, and he bursts into laughter again. “This is going to be fun.”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.”

“I may tell you over breakfast tomorrow.”

It’s my turn to laugh as I toss him to the side, open the door, and climb into my seat. I switch on the engine and close the door, rolling down the window. “No can do on breakfast, either. I have plans.”

His humor fades instantly. “She’s staying the night?”

“If I’m lucky.” I enjoy his look of disbelief as I back out.