“You bet.” The cashier looked to Kir. “Anything for you?”

“Nyet.” Kir stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a silver money clip pinching a decent stack of bills. He popped the clip off, peeled off a twenty and handed it the lady. “That will be all.”

Cassie looked to the money disappearing in the register, then back to Kir. “I can pay for my own food.”

“I am certain you can, but you will not with me.” He dipped his head toward the ones folded in her hand. “Put that away. Save it for another daring excursion of the intestinal variety.”

“But—”

“We could argue the point, of course, but this is a nonnegotiable issue for me. Consider it a behavior too ingrained for me to change at this juncture in my life.”

Cassie glanced at the rotund woman avidly watching the interplay behind them. She cocked one eyebrow that pretty much said she thought Cassie was twenty kinds of stupid if she argued.

Ducking her head, Cassie stuffed her bills back in her billfold. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

While waiting for her order, Kir kept his silence and openly studied not just the goings on behind the counter, but the patrons seated in the red Formica booths behind them.

By the time she got her food, there were only two seating options available—a booth in the far corner and a two-seater near the door.

Kir made the decision for her and steered her to the two-seater.

She set the paper bag with the to-go portion of her order aside and tugged a few napkins free of the dispenser against the glass wall. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“You assume I have an agenda.”

“Well, you said yourself you were waiting on me in the parking lot. You seemed awfully indifferent to me last night, so I’m assuming you were waiting for a more professional reason.”

Kir reclined between the corner of the chair and the window, one arm on the table in front of him and the other on the chair’s back. “I wouldn’t use the word indifferent.”

If she hadn’t been ready to eat her own hand, she’d have likely engaged in some verbal back and forth. Instead, she dug into her food and gave him what Aunt Frieda called her I don’t have all day look.

The boyish grin he gave her in return was utterly disarming. The kind of smile leveraged by ornery boys who well knew their allure and used it every opportunity they could. “You have an amazing spirit about you. I suspect there are very few who dare to challenge you.”

“You haven’t met Lizbet yet.”

“Who?”

Cassie waved the topic off with her fork and prepped another bite. “Never mind. Just answer the question.”

“What question?”

“If you weren’t indifferent, what would you call it?”

His smile faded. He studied her intently for several moments. “Angry.” With that, he let out a slow breath and the tension that had crept into his shoulders eased. “However, once you explained your reasons, your actions were understandable.”