Chapter Eleven
Sax sat across the table from Bryce, an uneasy smile on her face. Her fingers were intertwined on the table in front of her. On the blue and white checkerboard table cloth sat a glass of water with a wedge of lemon floating amongst the ice chips. Beside the glass was a set of cheap nickel-plated Wal-Mart cutlery lying on a thin paper napkin.
Bryce’s grin was infectious. “You come here much?” he said.
“No. Not really.”
His brow wrinkled. “Yeah. Cinnamon took one look at the place and refused to come in. She said it looked too touristy.” His features brightened. “But I hear the food is great.”
Bryce picked up the wine bottle with a white candle stuck in it, secured by thick melted wax.
Sax fought the urge to roll her eyes. She said, “Yeah. I hear that too.” R
