Page 10 of Same Rogue
“Thanks for being cool about all of that,” she said softly as she grabbed an order pad and a pen.
“I’ve been around you werewolves before. Seemed tame to me. Chase Mullins is a pest. It was kind of satisfying watching him get walloped across the face. That’s been a long time coming.”
Kit grinned as she passed her by. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yep,” Anna said blandly as she continued studying the receipts.
“Hey,” she told Bridger, who was looking down at a menu.
He looked up at her, and his eyes were still that striking bright gold. God, he was hot. Like…way better than his pictureseven. He had trimmed his beard shorter than when she’d seen him earlier, and he smelled like wolf and cologne. His arm muscles were taut and perfect and stretched the fabric of his T-shirt just right. He looked jacked.
Like it was a habit, he curved the bill of his hat and then cracked his knuckles as he leaned back in the chair. “What was that guy doing?”
Oh, there was a growl to his voice.
“Being a jerk. You men are kind of good at that.”
He ran his hand down his short facial scruff. “Sorry for earlier.”
“Forgiven. Completely. Seriously, thank you for taking care of the Chase guy.”
Bridger shrugged. “No worries.”
She inhaled sharply. She should not say what was on her mind. She should not say it. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“That was the hottest thing I think I have ever witnessed.”
He frowned under the bill of his baseball cap. “Me hitting a guy? You don’t get out much, do you?”
“No, I mean, you knew exactly what I needed when I hinted at that guy. I didn’t have to ask you or explain. You just…took care of it.”
Bridger nodded slowly. “I’ll have the burger. Two patties, fried egg on top. Fries with it, add the pasta salad, the mac and cheese bites, the jalapeño poppers, and a side of another double cheeseburger.”
She laughed. “Oh my gosh, would you like anything else?”
“A beer. Something local. I’m not picky.”
“Sure you don’t want another Alabama Slammer?”
“Nah. One is enough.”
“You know every time someone orders one of those around him, Chase is going to associate it with the trauma of getting hit.”
A grin cracked Bridger’s face. “Good.”
She hesitated, shifting her weight to the other side. “Seriously, thank you.”
“Yep.”
She began to walk off but turned. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating.” His answer was quick and held a note of truth in it. Okay.
“Um, I have a twenty-five percent employee discount. I’ll use it on you.”
“Won’t you get fired?”
