me.” Shane flashed Debbie a heart-melting smile. “This is a personal question, but I’m an investor and I’d love an honest answer.”
“All right.” Debbie gave him a small smile that suggested if her heart wasn’t melting, it was at least warming. She rested her free hand on her hip, elevating the coffeepot in the other. “Shoot.”
“Do you rent or own?”
Debbie rolled her eyes. “Own? I wish. I don’t have the credit, or the cash, to buy a house. I rent an apartment.”
“And your rent per month is…?”
“Six seventy-five.”
“Nice place?” Shane asked.
“Not really,” Debbie said with a humorless laugh.
“Roommates?”
Her smile vanished. “Not anymore,” she bit out.
Crickitt wondered if her former “roommate” was her son’s father. There was definite determination in the way she shot out her chin. “It’s just me and my son,” Debbie said with an assertive nod.
“I appreciate it, Debbie,” Shane said after mentioning he’d enjoyed breakfast. “Thank you for the coffee and for your honesty. You’ve helped me a great deal with my next endeavor.”
Debbie left their table and Crickitt waited for Shane to explain. He didn’t, only tapped the open file in front of her. “Come on, you’ve got another forty-five minutes to bone up.” Then he leaned back in the booth and sipped his coffee as if he hadn’t just had an odd and slightly invasive conversation with a total stranger.
When the check came a half hour later, she was surprised to see Shane pull out cash.
“Shouldn’t you charge that and write it off?” she asked, having been accustomed to doing so for her own business.
“Not today.” His mouth lifted mischievously as he counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills and one twenty. He folded them into the black book on the table and slid it to the edge.
Their breakfast and a twenty percent tip would have been more than covered by the lesser bill. A moment later, Debbie came by to pick up the book. “Change?”
“No, thank you. Keep it. You know, for that nice apartment of yours,” Shane said with a smile and a wink that would most likely be the most charming Debbie would see all day. Maybe all week.
Debbie laughed and rolled her eyes, probably imagining an extra four or five bucks hidden behind the vinyl cover, then she headed to tend to her other guests.
“So you weren’t just taking a random poll?”
“I don’t do anything randomly,” Shane said with a lift of his brow. He slid out of the booth, stealing a glance over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“But…” Crickitt looked down at the scattered papers.
“Hurry,” Shane whispered, helping her fill the manila folder as swiftly as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime. Crickitt shoved the folder and pen into her canvas bag as Shane grasped her free hand and towed her to the door. As they walked through it, Crickitt turned to catch a glimpse of Debbie standing statue still in the center of the restaurant, her hand pressed to her chest as she stared at the “tip” Shane left her.
“Come on.” He tugged her to the limo parked out front. The second they were outside Crickitt registered Shane’s long fingers wrapped around hers. Warmth between their palms sizzled her nerve endings. She squeezed his fingers, savoring the opportunity to be close to him, the excuse to touch him. Shane spared her a glance as they descended on the limo, slowing his frantic pace long enough to flash her a wry half smile. Was he thinking the same thing?
The driver poked his head out the driver’s side door, but Shane waved him off. “I got it, Thomas.”
He held on to Crickitt’s hand until she was safely inside, then climbed in and took the seat facing hers. Shane rapped on the privacy glass and Thomas pulled into the light traffic.
At first, Shane looked like a kid who dropped off a tire swing into an ice-cold lake. But as the restaurant grew farther away, his grin emerged. Lifting thick eyebrows in a
“All right.” Debbie gave him a small smile that suggested if her heart wasn’t melting, it was at least warming. She rested her free hand on her hip, elevating the coffeepot in the other. “Shoot.”
“Do you rent or own?”
Debbie rolled her eyes. “Own? I wish. I don’t have the credit, or the cash, to buy a house. I rent an apartment.”
“And your rent per month is…?”
“Six seventy-five.”
“Nice place?” Shane asked.
“Not really,” Debbie said with a humorless laugh.
“Roommates?”
Her smile vanished. “Not anymore,” she bit out.
Crickitt wondered if her former “roommate” was her son’s father. There was definite determination in the way she shot out her chin. “It’s just me and my son,” Debbie said with an assertive nod.
“I appreciate it, Debbie,” Shane said after mentioning he’d enjoyed breakfast. “Thank you for the coffee and for your honesty. You’ve helped me a great deal with my next endeavor.”
Debbie left their table and Crickitt waited for Shane to explain. He didn’t, only tapped the open file in front of her. “Come on, you’ve got another forty-five minutes to bone up.” Then he leaned back in the booth and sipped his coffee as if he hadn’t just had an odd and slightly invasive conversation with a total stranger.
When the check came a half hour later, she was surprised to see Shane pull out cash.
“Shouldn’t you charge that and write it off?” she asked, having been accustomed to doing so for her own business.
“Not today.” His mouth lifted mischievously as he counted out ten one-hundred-dollar bills and one twenty. He folded them into the black book on the table and slid it to the edge.
Their breakfast and a twenty percent tip would have been more than covered by the lesser bill. A moment later, Debbie came by to pick up the book. “Change?”
“No, thank you. Keep it. You know, for that nice apartment of yours,” Shane said with a smile and a wink that would most likely be the most charming Debbie would see all day. Maybe all week.
Debbie laughed and rolled her eyes, probably imagining an extra four or five bucks hidden behind the vinyl cover, then she headed to tend to her other guests.
“So you weren’t just taking a random poll?”
“I don’t do anything randomly,” Shane said with a lift of his brow. He slid out of the booth, stealing a glance over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“But…” Crickitt looked down at the scattered papers.
“Hurry,” Shane whispered, helping her fill the manila folder as swiftly as if they were fleeing the scene of a crime. Crickitt shoved the folder and pen into her canvas bag as Shane grasped her free hand and towed her to the door. As they walked through it, Crickitt turned to catch a glimpse of Debbie standing statue still in the center of the restaurant, her hand pressed to her chest as she stared at the “tip” Shane left her.
“Come on.” He tugged her to the limo parked out front. The second they were outside Crickitt registered Shane’s long fingers wrapped around hers. Warmth between their palms sizzled her nerve endings. She squeezed his fingers, savoring the opportunity to be close to him, the excuse to touch him. Shane spared her a glance as they descended on the limo, slowing his frantic pace long enough to flash her a wry half smile. Was he thinking the same thing?
The driver poked his head out the driver’s side door, but Shane waved him off. “I got it, Thomas.”
He held on to Crickitt’s hand until she was safely inside, then climbed in and took the seat facing hers. Shane rapped on the privacy glass and Thomas pulled into the light traffic.
At first, Shane looked like a kid who dropped off a tire swing into an ice-cold lake. But as the restaurant grew farther away, his grin emerged. Lifting thick eyebrows in a
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