Page 29 of Edge of Secrets (The Edge Trilogy #2)

Nell was scheduled to work for three hours on the game texts with Bruce, from six until nine.

That was ridiculous, considering that she’d just come off a long shift of waitressing.

She pushed herself way too hard. I could pull rank, tell Bruce it wasn’t happening tonight.

Insist that she cut out early, considering all of last night’s drama.

We could grab dinner somewhere before we met her sisters at the Irish pub.

That was an encounter I tried not to think about.

I didn’t want social anxiety to kill my buzz, and it absolutely could.

I wasn’t great in groups. Hell, I wasn’t great one-on-one either, most of the time.

And I had to shut down this line of thought right fucking now.

I was kissed by the gods and found a good parking spot not too far from the Sunset Grill.

I went in, heart thudding, and scanned the place until I saw her, swathed in her sunset orange apron, hair twisted up and corkscrewing around her face.

She looked pale, tired, harassed. And freaking drop-dead beautiful.

She glanced over at me and promptly bumped into a table. I was at her side in two steps, reaching to steady her tray, but she pulled back with a hiss of warning, spilling half a bowl of French onion soup.

“Nope! Thanks, but I can manage. What the hell are you doing here? It’s early!”

“It’s a restaurant, right? Don’t I have the right to come in here?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, biting her lower lip. “But all the tables are full. You can wait fifteen minutes for one, or you can sit at the counter.”

I seated myself at the free stool at the end of the counter.

The place was hopping, with late lunchers and early diners everywhere.

Nell and a red-headed girl were the only servers, and both were running frantically.

I watched Nell grace her clients with her luminous smile, carrying loaded trays that looked far too heavy for her.

She sneaked the occasional glance at me, and some minutes later she made it back to me with the coffeepot.

“Stop staring,” she whispered. “It’s making me nervous.”

“What’s with you?” I asked as she poured my coffee. “You seem tense.”

“Oh, am I?” She snorted. “Hah. It’s nothing.

Business as usual. Money problems. Credit card debt.

A bugged apartment. Armed kidnappers shoving me into a car.

Nights of wild monkey sex with a hot but overbearing man who’s practically a stranger to me.

Then I get to work and discover that not only does Kendra have one of her weird illnesses, but Pete broke his toe, so we’re short-staffed.

And now you’re here, staring at me the way a hungry cheetah stares at a zebra.

Other than that, I’m fine. Let me take your order. Strip steak, I presume?”

“No. Actually, I ordered out for lunch a few hours ago,” I told her.

Her eyebrow lifted. “Oh. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” I said. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Nell bit her luscious lower lip, a blush warming her cheeks. “Well. That’s lovely, Duncan, and I appreciate it, but we have an eight-dollar minimum during the dinner shift.”

“More coffee,” I said. “And my usual dessert. I fully intend to burn it off later.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You should try something new. I think today I’ve earned the right to insist on it.” She marched away.

“So. You’re the one, eh?” a gravelly female voice said.

I looked across the counter into the clear gray eyes of a strong-jawed, wide-hipped lady of about seventy, the one who was usually in the kitchen. “Excuse me? What one?”

The woman smartly dressed a tray of salads and passed it across the counter to the redheaded waitress.

The waitress leaned over my shoulder from behind, popped fragrant strawberry gum in my ear, and studied me as if I were some strange species of mold in a petri dish.

“Not bad,” she commented. “Big. I like ‘em big.”

“I’m Norma,” the older woman said, examining me over the lenses of her glasses. “I own this joint. And you’re Strip Steak.”

Being defined in terms of my lunch choices was a new experience for me. “Duncan Burke, at your service,” I said.

“Duncan Burke. So you’re the one,” Norma said again, wrapping silverware in napkins and stacking them on a tray with machine-like efficiency.

I took a cautious sip of my coffee. “What one am I?”

“The one who’s taking away my right-hand woman. At the worst possible time.”

“Nothing personal,” I said. “Sorry, ma’am, but it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there.”

“Don’t I know it,” Norma replied, her voice steely. “And in light of that specific fact, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you what a prize you’ve got in her.”

My coffee cup stopped halfway to my mouth.

Norma went on. “I heard about that kerfuffle last night, see. You, saving her from those guys on the street. Very good. Bravo. I like that you can handle yourself in a tight situation. That’s a good quality in a man. Very useful. But it’s not enough.”

I blinked. “Uh … it’s not?”

“No. Not for Nell. Nell’s special. Sensitive, brilliant, empathetic, kind. She deserves an absolute top-shelf experience. She has more to give than you could possibly imagine.”

I started to feel hunted. “How do you know what I can imagine?”

“Sorry, honey, but any guy who orders the same lunch every day for six weeks in a row has serious issues with his imagination,” Norma told me, not without sympathy.

The redheaded waitress swooped by and leaned over my shoulder again.

“But don’t despair, big guy,” she said, popping her gum in my ear again.

“You can make up for a lot of that intellectual imagination stuff in bed, if you treat her good. And I mean, like, really, really good, get it? Life’s a series of trade-offs, see. So work to your strengths.”

“An excellent point,” Norma agreed. “Keep it in mind. But beware. If you don’t treat her like a goddess, you’ll have me to answer to.”

I forced my mouth to close, and coughed to clear my throat. “Just what are you implying, ma’am?”

“That depends entirely on you,” Norma said crisply.

“You see, unfortunately, our Nell is an orphan twice over. There aren’t parents around to judge you, interrogate you, and generally break your balls.

” She pointed at her chest. “But here I am, Strip Steak—ready and willing to pick up the slack. I can be worse than the very worst mother-in-law you could imagine. More unreasonable, more demanding, more critical, more nitpicking. Beware. That’s what you’re up against. Stay on your toes.

Don’t get lazy. Don’t get complacent. Mind your manners. ”

“Yeah,” the redhead piped up. “And there’s me, too. And Monica. And don’t forget her two sisters. Mess with Nell, and Nancy and Vivi will rip you open and toss your entrails into the gutter. And I’ll be right there with ‘em, knife in hand.”

I considered that startling image for a moment. “So, uh, what exactly are you getting at? Do you want me to formally declare that my intentions are honorable?”

Norma’s smile turned approving. “Well, would you look at that, Carla. He’s quicker than he looks. I like the way your mind works, fella. You’re on the right track.”

Nell appeared with a plate. “Here’s your dessert. Carla, table five needs a slice of Black Forest and a Key Lime, and they’re in a rush, okay?”

Carla gave her gum a final loud pop and sashayed away as Nell set down the dessert. It was not apple pie with ice cream. It was a fluffy, quivering yellow-and-white confection with towering whipped cream, cradled in a buttery, crimped crust.

“I decided you needed a change of pace.” There was a note of challenge in her voice. “This is a house specialty. Banana cream pie. You must try it. I insist.”

She stared at him, her soft mouth stubborn. Norma stared, too, from behind the counter, her chubby arms crossed across her voluminous bosom. Seconds ticked by.

This was not about pie. This was some subtle test that I could not afford to fail. And besides, God knows, I was doing plenty of insisting myself lately, so it was only fair.

Aw, what the fuck. It was just pie. I forked up a bite. “It’s good,” I said automatically. Then I took another bite and realized that it was true. It was amazing.

Nell’s face relaxed. Norma harrumphed and stumped away to serve a customer at the other end of the counter.

Nell leaned down to my ear. “What did those two maniacs say to you?”

“I was just informed that I should declare my intentions,” I told her. “I was warned that if I don’t treat you like the shining goddess you are, I’ll be sliced wide open by all your soul sisters and my steaming viscera tossed out into the street.”

“Oh God.” Nell turned a delicate pink. “No. They didn’t.”

“Verbatim,” I said solemnly. “Swear to God.”

“I’m going to kill them.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I actually like that you have friends who’ll make death threats for you.” With no warning, I was laughing. Then she was laughing, too. People were looking—and I didn’t care.

It felt great.