Page 129 of Josephine and Clay

She gives me a flat look.

I grin.

She fights a smile and loses a little.

“Fine,” she says. “Breakfast.”

Another small win.

We go to the Rusty Mug because Josie says Spurs is “too much town before ten a.m.” and I don’t argue because, honestly, she’s right.

The Rusty Mug is busy enough to feel alive but not so packed that I want to leave immediately. Laura spots us the second we walk in.

“Well, well,” she says, smile slow as she looks between us. “Morning.”

Josie stiffens beside me. I feel it before I see it.

“Morning,” I say, easy.

Laura’s eyes dip to my crutches. “You need a booth with room for that leg?”

“Please,” Josie says before I can.

I glance down at her.

She ignores me.

Laura leads us to the corner booth, giving me extra space to stretch my leg out without blocking the aisle. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Tea,” Josie says.

“Toast?” Laura asks her.

Josie blinks.

Laura smiles sweetly. “You looked like a toast kind of morning.”

Josie’s cheeks color slightly. “Sure.”

I raise a brow once Laura leaves. “Toast kind of morning?”

“She’s invasive.”

“Small town café owner. Comes with the job.”

She laughs. “You defend her because you’re from here.”

“I defend her because I know better than to cross a woman who controls breakfast.”

That earns me another smile.

I like making her smile.

Too much.

We order. I get eggs, bacon, biscuits, and hash browns because apparently healing bone makes a man starving. Josie orders toast, scrambled eggs, and fruit, then looks irritated when Laura adds a side of potatoes “just in case.”