Page 44 of Airhead

But she didn’t say anything. The most amazing woman in the world just sat in her car, facing forward, with her hands back on the wheel. She didn’t even bother to wipe away the tears anymore.

He waited, holding his breath, but she didn’t even glance his way. A hole in his chest formed, where his heart had been only a few minutes ago. Frank tried to think of something else he could say, but there was nothing left. He’d said it all.

Feeling like he’d been run over by the ladder truck, he got out of the Pinto. The door had barely clicked shut before she pulled out of the parking spot. Standing next to his Firebird, he sucked in the humid June air and tried to find his bearings.

He’d fished his keys out of his pocket and had just opened his door when the Pinto reappeared, screeching to a halt in front of him and leaving the scent of burned rubber in the air.

Katie killed the engine, got out of the car, and marched over to him. “I am sorry you wasted your time and money.” She reached into that massive purse of hers and pulled out a wallet. Her shoulders were squared and her chin was high, but there was no missing the fact that she’d been crying. “How much do I owe you?”

“Not a damn thing because none of it was a waste. Not a single dime. Not a single minute. It was all worth it.” He took the wallet out of her hand and shoved it back into her purse. “Yeah, you’re a Madigan, but you’re also more than that. Your students love you, which is good because waitressing is not for you. You clean up at poker, which is good because neither firefighters nor teachers have the kind of huge salaries we’re going to need to afford at least a dozen kids when we get married. You’re the kind of person who would help someone out even though you’re not the Katie they were looking for.” He cupped her face and tilted it upward, so she had to look at him because this next part mattered as much as she did. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re an amazing kisser. And you’re just awesome in general. You were right about what you said earlier. You’re not my kind of girl, Katie. You are the girl for me. Period.”

And even though it hurt like hell not to let it turn into something more, Frank brushed his lips across hers in the briefest of kisses and then dropped his hands and stepped back, giving her the space to walk away.

The next fifteen seconds were the most important of his life. All he could do was wait to see what Katie did next.

“Hartigan!” A man’s yell boomed across the parking lot. “I know it was you!”

He and Katie both turned to see that dipshit yuppie Alder headed straight for them, his trio of toady buddies following in his wake.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The girl for him.

Period.

Not a notch on his bedpost.

Not one of many dropping off meals at the firehouse.

Not just a good time during a slow night at Marinos.

The girl for him. Period.

Katie was still trying to process all of that, when along came The Creep, who was about as welcome as a colony of lice during a slumber party.

“I should have known you’d be a part of this too, Katie,” The Creep hollered, shoving a high school kid with a Flock of Seagulls haircut and a homemade T-shirt that said “Art With Larry” out of the way as he continued his march over to them. “You, your sister, your whole family is trash, so it’s no surprise you’d pull a move like this.”

Next to her, Frank growled—literally—and took a step forward, his hands balled into fists.

She reached out and put her hand on Frank’s arm. He glanced down at her in question. “You don’t want me to take care of him?”

Katie shook her head, the sense that everything was going to work out settling in her belly and making the last of her tears dry up. “I was the one who got you into this; I’ll take care of it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Not to argue, but I got myself into this by telling you it was my DeLorean.”

The man was as stubborn as every male member of her family—and every female member of her family. Fine, he was going to fit in with the rest of the Madigans without any problem. God, she hoped his family liked her. And⁠—

The rapid approach of The Creep forced her back to the here and now.

“Can we fight about this later?” she asked, jerking her chin in the direction of The Creep and his entourage of shitheads.

The smile that broke out on Frank’s face was big enough to show off his dimple. “So there’s going to be a later?”

“Most definitely,” she said, the butterflies in her stomach waking up and going for a test flight in a tornado.

He shot her a quick wink, and then they turned together to face off against The Creep, whose blond hair was feathered perfectly, and the collars of his double polo shirts popped in accordance with the unwritten bylaws of rich yuppie assholes everywhere.

“You two are going to have to make this right,” The Creep said with a sneer. “I want my car detailed and a letter of apology.”