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Tyler shoves Grant. “Don’t be stupid. She loves meat. Right, Kennedy?”

I can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he genuinely has no idea what he’s suggesting.

I narrow my eyes and wait for the telltale smirk that never comes. “That would depend on the animal in question.”

“This place serves burgers . . . That’s cow. You cool with cows?” Grant asks the question with a straight face, so I’m guessing he’s as clueless as he looks.

I heave out a sigh. “I eat burgers, Grant. It’s fine. But to be honest, what I want is coffee. And lots of it.”

“Are you done? Can we eat now? I’m freaking starving.” Without waiting for either of us, Tyler heads for the entrance.

“Does this place even have coffee?” Grant slides a hand into his sandy-brown hair.

Tyler opens the door. “It’s a diner. Coffee’s its own food group.”

“But . . .” Grant roots himself in place on the sidewalk with his green eyes locked on mine. “I don’t think that’s what Kennedy means by coffee.”

Tyler stands there with the door gaping open as he stares at me. “Coffee’s coffee, am I right?”

The last thing I want to do is argue with him, but I can’t help myself. I’m jonesing for a white-chocolate mocha latte, and after the night I’ve had, make it heavy on the whipped cream. “Actually, no. Not all coffee is created equal.”

“Come on.” Grant reaches for my hand, then changes his mind and drops his as if he knows I’m less than two seconds from losing my shit. “There’s a nice coffee place around the corner from here. We can walk. If Tyler wants a burger, he can stay.”

“Are you serious?” Tyler whines, letting the door fall shut.

“Dead serious.” Grant flashes a victorious grin, then reaches for my hand again.

This time I take it before he pulls it away. Grant is the lesser of two evils tonight. Besides, after watching his meltdown at laser tag, I’m pretty sure I could take him in hand-to-hand combat, if it came to that. “Let’s go.”

Tyler groans, trailing behind us the whole way to the Beanery.

There’s something comforting about the smells wafting through the door as we step inside, putting me instantly at ease.

Grant squeezes my hand as he tows me to the counter and orders for me. “One mega huge white-chocolate mocha latte with an extra shot of espresso, heavy on the whipped cream.”

I gape at him. “How’d you know what I wanted?” Right down to the whipped cream.

Grant scratches behind his ear. “You, uh, kind of mumbled it the whole way here.”

“I did?” I laugh.

“It’s cool. You deserve it after getting knocked around all evening.” He reaches up and brushes a red curl from my forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“Does what—”

“Kennedy?”

The sound of Jordan’s voice sends a shiver through me, and I whip my head around to face him. “What are you—were you following me?”

“Caught me.” Jordan’s eyes tighten and his gaze bounces between me and Grant before landing on our joined hands.

I jerk my hand free, making Grant stumble.

“I’ve been running all over town with hot pastries, hoping to catch a glimpse of you on your date.” The words come out cold and clipped as Jordan eyes Grant from behind the counter. Then he drops his gaze to the tray of cinnamon rolls in his hands, and I finally notice the apron and oven mitts.

“Wait . . . you work here?” I blink at him in confusion. “Since when? And how did I not know? I’m here all the time.”

“I, uh, don’t normally work regular business hours. And I’m usually in the back.” Jordan shifts his weight, his cheeks flaming. “Baking.”