The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,126

think you should give the poor guy a chance. He’s got a bad crush on you.”

Shelby stared across the table in complete confusion. “He does?”

“Oh, come on. You’re spectacular around horses, and you’re a damn good-looking woman.” He put his finger up. “I did not say God.”

“I just never noticed him much, other than the workin’.”

“Well, you should.”

She sat back and shook her head. “You know … I really can’t believe this.”

“That someone might actually be attracted to you? Well, someone who isn’t trying to suck you down into their own black hole of self-destruction, that is?”

“Well, that, too. But I just never would have guessed that you’d be openin’ up like this.”

He picked up his Coke and considered the fizzy goodness. “Guess sobriety affects me like alcohol does most people. Makes me chatty.”

“It’s kinda …”

“What? And be honest.”

“It’s real nice.” Her voice got soft and she looked away. “It’s real good.”

Edward found himself clearing his throat. “Miracles do happen.”

“And I’ve never seen you eat this much before.”

“It’s been a while.”

“So do you just hate my cooking?”

He laughed and pushed his fries away. One more and he was going to burst. On that note, he said, “I want ice cream now. Come on.”

“I don’t think she left a bill.”

Edward leaned to the side and took out the thousand dollars. Peeling off two hundred-dollar bills, he said, “This should cover it.”

As Shelby’s eyes bugged, he got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on. I’m stuffed, so I need that ice cream now.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Oh, it does.” He started limping for the door, going around the other diners at their tables. “Cold and sweet settles the stomach. It’s what my momma, Miss Aurora, has always said, and she’s always right. And no, I don’t hate your cooking at all. You’re very good at it.”

Outside, he took a moment to appreciate the night air again, and it felt good to have a certain lightness in his chest for once, a singing sensation that would have been optimism in someone else, but in his case, was relief.

“Except you don’t want to go heavy with the ice cream,” he informed her as he walked forward, checking to see if there were any cars coming. “Keep it light. Vanilla only. Maybe with chocolate chips, but nothing with nuts and nothing too gooey. Graeter’s is best.”

With a clear shot across the two lanes to her truck, Shelby fell in step beside him, shortening her stride to accommodate his lack of speed.

“Sir! Oh, sir?”

Edward looked back as they got to the other side of the road. Their waitress had come out of the restaurant with the money he’d left.

“Your bill’s only twenty-four and some change,” the woman said across the street. “This is way too much—”

“You keep the change.” He smiled as her eyes grew wide, and then she looked at the money like she didn’t know what it was. “I’ll bet being on those feet all shift makes your back ache like hell. I should know from the aching. Treat yourself to a night off or something.”

She focused on him—only to frown. “Wait a minute … are you—” “Nobody. I’m nobody.” He waved good-bye and turned to the truck. “Just another customer.”

“Well, thank you!” she called out. “It’s the biggest tip I’ve ever gotten!” “You deserve it,” he said over his shoulder.

Heading around the cab, he opened Shelby’s door and helped her in even though she didn’t need the help.

“That was a really nice thing to do,” she said.

“Well, it’s probably the best meal I’ve had since—no offense.”

“None taken.” She put her hand on his arm before he could shut her in. “What’s the thing you want me to know?”

Before he replied, Edward leaned against the door, removing the weight from his bad ankle. “You’re always going to have a job at the Red & Black. For however long you want it, you will always have the work and the apartment. Hell, I can see you and Moe running the thing together—whether or not you let his son take you out on a date, whether or not you like Joey back.”

Shelby glanced away in that manner she seemed to when she was emotional. And as Edward studied her face, he thought, Huh, this must be what it’s like to have a proper little sister.

Gin was more like having a banshee in your house.

Or a tornado.

After all, much as he loved that woman, he had never felt particularly close to her. He wasn’t sure