Page 90

The way she said sweetie made me want to punch her in the face.

Though that was frowned upon both as a man and an officer of the law.

“I’d like a cheeseburger with lettuce, mayo, and mustard. Onions and pickles.”

“Fries?” Donna asked.

“Yes, please,” Jessamy said.

“That’ll be twenty-two dollars.”

I frowned. “Hopps, did you up the price of your burgers?”

“No,” he answered, looking at me in confusion.

“Then why did she just order a burger and fries and it’s twenty-two bucks?” I asked.

Hopps got up and walked down to the register.

He stopped Jessamy from putting her card in, then looked at the register Donna had just used to ring her up.

He frowned. “Donna, I know you’re fairly new, but you don’t charge an alcohol tax on food orders. You also don’t charge a cover charge for entertainment on to-go orders.”

“Oh,” Donna said. “I didn’t know that I did that.”

Sure, she didn’t.

“It’s actually thirteen bucks,” Hopps said to Jessamy. “And remember, no tips here on to-go orders. I pay my granddaughter a hell of a good wage to do them, so no tip necessary.”

“Oh, okay.” Jessamy frowned.

Hopps walked back to the meeting, muttering under his breath.

“That’ll be thirteen dollars.” Donna sounded like she’d sucked on a sour lemon.

Not amused at all.

I was only half listening to what the group was talking about—encroachment of another club on our territory that likely wouldn’t amount to anything thanks to the weight the name Dixie Warden held—and partially focused on what was going on in the kitchen behind me.

My gaze, however, was solely on Jessamy as she took a seat at the bar and waited patiently.

“Guess whose order I just took,” Donna said, catching my attention.

My gaze moved to the kitchen.

I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them just fine.

“Jessamy Darling, the social pariah of Sawtooth.”

“Ugh,” one of the waitresses grumbled. “I hate her.”

“And your grandfather caught me charging her for a cover charge.” Donna laughed. “Sorry to say, but he also told her no tip for you, Ter.”

“Just give her that burned burger that was sent back by the last customer,” I heard one of the waitresses suggest.

“Oh, good idea,” another replied.

I stiffened.