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“Your phone’s been going crazy,” I said.
She picked it up, scanned everything, then winced.
“Shayne. My brothers. My parents letting me know their flight to Germany was about to take off.” She sighed. “I’d better call them back before they worry about me.”
So she did, instead of eating her food.
I waited until all the calls were made—her assuring her family and friends that she was fine and with me—before hanging up and reaching for her burrito.
I picked up mine, and we ate in silence for a few minutes before she said, “My brothers asked who you were.”
My lips twitched. “Did they know that you’d met someone?”
She eyed me with an arched eyebrow. “Do you think I’d be stupid enough to tell my family full of cops about a man I met, and slept with, at an airport, who I’d been talking to for the last few weeks?”
When she put it like that…
I chuckled and went back to my burrito, not stopping for another talk break until the only thing left on my plate were drips of queso.
She eyed me steadily before offering me the rest of hers.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
She placed the entire thing on her plate, then shoved it over, chips and all.
“A-Addison and I used to share one of those,” she admitted. “It’s not that I couldn’t eat it all. I could. But I’d be seriously miserable for a full hour after. And since we’re going to all our favorite places, I was hoping that you’d take me over to Cinnaholic next door so I could get a cinnamon roll.”
My lips twitched. “That’s my sister’s favorite place recently. I’ll take you.”
So that’s what we did.
After I polished off all of her leftover food, I headed next door with her.
She ordered an Original. I got two scoops of cookie dough.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like the cinnamon rolls here, but I had a body that needed maintained, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made.
Like not getting a thousand-calorie cinnamon roll even when you were dying to have it.
Only, she took about four bites before she passed it over to me with a wobbly smile.
And, not able to deny her this, I ate the thing.
It was fuckin’ fantastic.
So was my cookie dough.
Goddammit, I was going to have to burn all this off tomorrow at the gym.
“Thanks,” she said, her eyes welling with tears. “I feel like I can sleep for a week.”
I bussed our trash, then caught her hand and led her back out to my truck.
After settling her into the passenger seat, I got inside and started the truck, but didn’t move.
“Where would you like to sleep for a week?” I asked. “Your parents’ place? Your brothers’?”
“I need to go see them,” she said. “They’re probably still freaking out. They’re at a bar down the road from some high-rise apartments. They like to go there because a couple of their friends live there, and the bar is super nice without the ‘trash’ as they like to call it. We can run by there… and then if your place is open for me to sleep at, then I’d like to go there.”
