Jake's shot about roadkill struck the target intended, but Abbie was careful not to let it show. "Obviously, my tastes are much more particular." She waved her fork at the pie before shooting him a look from the corner of her eye. "Though I might make an exception for your carcass."
If he could be on his way as quickly as possible, that would do wonders for her mood. She couldn't even explain why having Jake there made her so uncomfortable. She hadn't spoken to him, seen him, in two months — and before that, far longer. It was amusing to think that their conversation in January had been somewhat civil, some might even say momentarily insightful, but right now, she wanted to be as far from him as possible. Or it would have been amusing, if she'd been in the frame of mind to be at all amused.
She stubbornly shoved that bite in her mouth, even though her stomach was on the verge of waging mutiny. Jacob McKenna, who came and went as he pleased. Who doubted her ability to be free. Who had no business being in her thoughts at all, so if he could just get the hell out of there, it would be great.
And if that was really what she wanted, why did she feel the need to open her big mouth any further? She was aware of the waitress bringing him his order. Another minute and he'd have stalked his happy cat tail out of the diner and she could have stopped torturing herself with sugar.
But no. That was just too easy.
Even though she didn't look at him, she could feel the way he stopped and turned. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her.
And then her stomach flopped in defeat. More pies? Keep them coming? What had she done?
Abbie nodded at the waitress. Then she lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a long sip. She needed something to wash down that bitter taste in her mouth.
He sat down next to her and she suddenly wished the cheerful woman hadn't excused herself. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to detect the heat coming off of his body. It was a shifter thing, and it was distracting at this particular moment. Still, she straightened her spine and turned in her seat to face him head-on. Never let it be said that Abigail Knight backed down from a challenge. "Three hours of labor?" she echoed skeptically. What would he possibly want her to do for three hours? Nothing good, most likely. More importantly, what could she have him do for three hours?
Abbie nodded. "Endurance," she said, succinctly agreeing to his terms. "Standard table manners do apply. We're not animals, after all."
She watched him take his pie and head for a booth toward the back, the one where the redhead was seated. With a roll of her eyes, she stood and picked up her purse, the remainder of her pie, and her coffee. "Keep them coming," she reminded Alice before following Jake's lead and slipping into the other side of the booth.
With a motion to her pie, which was almost half eaten now. "If we're doing this right, you've got some catching up to do."