"Bathroom's all yours," she said, not quite meeting my eyes.
"Thanks, but I'm good to go. Thought we could grab breakfast at the diner before hitting the road. They make a mean stack of pancakes."
She nodded, focusing on carefully folding her pajamas and placing them in her suitcase. "Sounds good."
We checked out quickly, the clerk giving us a knowing smile that Lila steadfastly ignored. The morning air was cool and crisp as we loaded our bags into my truck and walked the short distance to the diner attached to the motel.
The place was busy but not crowded, filled with the comfortable hum of conversation and the scent of coffee and bacon. A middle-aged waitress with a name tag that read "Flora" led us to a booth by the window, sliding menus in front of us with a practiced flick of her wrist.
"Coffee for you both?" she asked, already pouring without waiting for our response.
"Please," Lila said, wrapping her hands around the mug as if seeking its warmth.
"Thank you, Flora," I added, glancing at the menu though I already knew what I wanted.
The waitress beamed at us. "You two make such a cute couple. Honeymooners?"
Lila choked on her coffee, coughing and sputtering. I reached across the table to pat her back, trying not to laugh at her reaction.
"We're not—" she started, once she could breathe again.
"Just friends," I finished smoothly, winking at Flora. "But I'm working on it."
Flora laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Well, good luck to you, honey." She turned to Lila with a conspiratorial smile. "And he's easy on the eyes, isn't he?"
Lila's blush returned in full force. "We're really not—"
"Ready to order?" Flora interrupted, pen poised over her notepad.
I took pity on Lila and jumped in. "I'll have the lumberjack special, eggs over easy, extra bacon."
"And for your not-girlfriend?" Flora asked, eyes twinkling.
Lila cleared her throat. "I'll have the French toast with berries, please. And a side of bacon."
I raised an eyebrow as Flora walked away. "French toast? Interesting choice."
"I like to try different things," she replied with a hint of a smile. "Besides, I've always been partial to the French approach."
"Fascinating," I said, genuinely intrigued by this small revelation. "The wine expert prefers the French approach to breakfast too."
She took a sip of her coffee, her expression giving nothing away. "I'll have you know I ate cereal for dinner just last month."
"Scandalous," I teased. "What was it, some kind of organic, sugar-free cardboard?"
"Lucky Charms," she replied with a defiant lift of her chin.
I pressed a hand to my chest in mock shock. "I don't believe it. Lila King, connoisseur of fine wines, eating artificially colored marshmallows? The horror."
"I contain multitudes," she said dryly, but her eyes were dancing with amusement now.
"Clearly," I agreed. "A woman of mystery and contradictions."
Our food arrived, and I watched with satisfaction as Lila eyed my towering stack of pancakes with poorly concealed interest.
"Want one?" I offered, sliding the syrup her way.
"I've got my own sugar rush coming," she said, nodding to her French toast as Flora set it down. The plate was piled high with thick slices of bread dusted with powdered sugar and topped with fresh berries.
