Page 34 of Hot Under the Collar

It took Lynne a while to reply, but when she did it was simply, In bed. Can’t sleep. It’s fine. And then, What time’s your shift end?

His breath stilled. Not until 7. Why?

Three dots appeared and disappeared several times on his phone screen as she typed. Want birthday breakfast instead this year? Minka’s? Right after your shift?

He grinned. You sure? I may be a zombie.

Lynne—We can be zombies together.

So they agreed to meet in front of Minka’s when he got off his shift, and that was all he could think about for the rest of the night.

At 7:05 a.m., Leo stumbled out of the station, exhausted, wild-eyed, hair a mess. But a smile was plastered across his face. Lynne showed up at Minka’s with pillow-creased cheeks, wearing a sweater that smelled faintly of spilled cider and cinnamon. But the jolt her smile gave him was better than any coffee Minka’s could offer. She handed him the jar of cherries as they walked inside, and he handed her a shiny new fire extinguisher to take back to O’Donnell’s.

He wasn’t sure if it was the chill in the air or his desperate need for sleep, but something about the way the light caught Lynne’s face and hair in the corner booth suddenly had his heart skipping. He tried to keep his face neutral, his body still. Just breakfast between friends his mind kept repeating. But, honest to God, seeing Lynne like this, all soft and welcoming, was the only birthday gift he’d ever want again.

She ordered what was apparently her usual: veggie omelet, no mushrooms, a half order of extra-crispy hash browns. Coffee with cream—no sugar. She looked surprised, though, when he ordered his usual. Biscuits and gravy. Black coffee.

“Don’t judge. I swear it’s the best thing on the menu.”

When their plates came out, he stole a forkful of her hash browns and offered up a bite of biscuit and gravy as a consolation prize. She let him feed it to her and, begrudgingly, admitted it was amazing.

“Happy—what is it now?—26th?” She lifted her coffee mug to cheers his and they clanged together.

“Um, no,” he chuckled. “Only my 24th. I don’t know, Lynne. Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”

She smiled over her mug’s edge. “I didn’t know it was possible for Leo March to be insulted.”

“Fair.”

“But you’ve always seemed older than your years.” She pointed a fork at him. “Just wait until your thirties,” she warned. “You start forgetting your own age. It’s no surprise I forgot your age, too.”

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s all downhill from there.”

“Well, you look amazing for, what … 35? 36?” He paused, catching her eye. “Oh, wait. Sorry. You can’t remember.”

Lynne narrowed her eyes and gave his shin a light kick under the table. “Careful, Leo. I know where you sleep.”

He licked his lips, trying not to remind her why she knew where he slept. Trying to also hold back a few quips that would’ve crossed the line.

Lynne sighed. “I’m only 31. But I’ll turn 32 on Christmas Eve.”

Leo’s jaw dropped. “Christmas Eve? How did I not know this?”

“I mean…” her face scrunched, “Mike and I dated for nearly four years, Leo. Maybe I’m not the only one with memory issues.”

“Damn. I walked right into that one.”

Lynne chuckled to herself.

“That’s interesting that we both have holiday birthdays, though,” he said. “Halloween and Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, but no one ever tried to weasel out of giving you presents on Halloween. You don’t know the pain I’ve suffered.”

“Please. All that trauma just forged you into the kind of woman who’d fight a stranger over tip money. Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did to that guy dressed as a sailor last Halloween.”

Her eyes lit up, and they both cackled so loud that some of the breakfast crowd glanced over at them. One guy even glared.