"Well," drawled Brenda, "you're full of hidden talents."
Sharon's glasses had slipped down a bit, and Brenda found herself on the receiving end of an awfully sharp, green-eyed gaze. It was easy to forget how green those eyes were, so often shielded by the lenses Sharon favored. She lazily held the other woman's look, and watched the sharpness turn mossy.
"I'm glad you enjoyed them. And, I see you eat with great enthusiasm, rather like a convict. Brenda Leigh, you do chew, do you not?
"Silly! 'Course I do. But when pancakes are this amazin', you don't waste time. 'Sides, there's a syrup to pancake to heat ratio that is one of God's lesser known commandments, but to be followed all the same.
Sharon hmmed and smiled despite herself. She eyed the spotless plate, then Brenda, saw her hopeful look and poured another round of batter on the griddle. Brenda's gleeful smile said enough, but the woman actually squeezed her eyes shut and wiggled in anticipation. Sharon shook her head. Oh, Willie Ray. What this woman must have been like as a child.
The pancakes bubbled, filling the kitchen with a soft sizzle and warm, inviting scent. Brenda swallowed. This time she'd put just a tad bit more butter on the stack, then let the syrup sink in, slowly. Let the batter be a sponge. Gosh, that was good syrup Sharon had. Of course it would be. Maybe sprinkle a little of that cocoa powder on top...
Sharon watched as Brenda, elbow propped on the countertop and chin cushioned in hand, floated away to some confection-laden la la land. The woman's eyes were glazed, cheeks slightly flushed and her lips were parted. For pity's sake, if just the idea of a second round of pancakes did this, she worried that Brenda might slip quietly into an anticipatory, sugar-induced coma. And how would she explain that one? She continued watching as the younger woman moistened her lower lip, drawing it in after her tongue, absently teasing it between her teeth. That pink, pouty lip was in trouble if she didn't do something fast.
"Coffee, Brenda? Brenda, coffee? Brenda?" She waited a beat more. "Investigator Johnson!"
Brenda's chin snapped off her palm as she tore away from her fantasy pancake stack. She felt briefly off kilter, caught out, but then her eyes traveled to the slightly quirked corner of the older woman's lips, and further, to the coffee pot she saw Sharon patiently holding. The carafe tilted in her direction. "Coffee, Brenda Leigh?"
"Oh. Yeah. Yes, please," she corrected. Her momma might be gone, but her etiquette lessons remained. And certainly this wonderful breakfast treat qualified as a something to be deeply, soulfully appreciative of. She straightened in her chair. "Thank you, Sharon, so much. You're too good to me."
"Nonsense. With Rusty at college it's a pleasure to have the company. And after the last couple weeks we've had, I think we could both use a little spoiling. Heaven knows there's been little enough to enjoy with this last investigation. But," she flipped the last pancake over, pressing it a little into the heat. "Case closed. Your office is handling the details." She looked at her guest, offered a warm, if wan smile. She felt suddenly tired, her eyes dry. "Working all night doesn't get easier, does it?" Brenda shook her head with genuine commiseration. "We both need some carbohydrates, caffeine. And, well, it's been nice working with you again," Sharon paused, assessing perfectly golden pancakes. She slid them onto Brenda's plate, held out the syrup, held the younger woman's gaze. "Chief."
A couple years earlier and Brenda would have smarted, reacting on pure principle. But since becoming friends, she understood the woman's ways. She had long since realized that she looked forward to Sharon's provocations, her dry humor, her obsessive note-taking—all of which worked to obscure the caring woman underneath. The woman who took in stray boys and made them whole. The woman who worked within the system and had clean wins. The woman who was feeding her pancakes. She reached out for the excellent syrup and sighed. She supposed the way Rick and Renault would always have Paris, they'd always have that first horrid, hospital meeting where Brenda, tired, intimidated, put off and worried had pulled rank. She returned the smile.
"Thank you, Captain, don't mind if I do."