Page 12 of Her Mountain Man Protector

"You're a delight. Has anyone told you that today, or are they all too busy getting shot at?"

"Walk, Vega."

The back hall of the diner is narrow and warm from the grill. A waitress with a pen in her hair glances up. “Welcome in. Take any booth. Be with you in a minute.”

The man in the dark jacket is gone from the front window. His mug is still there, coffee untouched, a bill tucked under the saucer. He left in a hurry. He may have wanted us to think that.

Colt puts me on the inside of the booth, his body between me and the room, and I hate how easily he does it. I also stay put, because the loft rail still lives in my knees.

The waitress sets down two mugs. "You look like the mountain spit you out. Pie's apple. That's what we've got."

"Coffee's fine," Colt says.

"Pie," I say, because if I'm going to be ordered around by a man who treats seatbelts as doctrine, I'm at least getting pastry out of the arrangement.

She almost smiles and leaves us. Colt's eyes keep moving. Door. Street glass. Me. Then the street glass again. His attention never sits still. Sitting next to it makes my pulse climb in a way I refuse to give him credit for.

"So," I say. "Regroup. That's the word you used. Catch me up before you start growling in complete sentences."

"Helix hit the cabin because they already had you on a string. They knew my name because they've been in this hunt longer than I wanted to admit. Banks’s on the phones. We're not going back up that road tonight."

"And the diner plan is what? Hide in plain sight until the pie arrives?"

"The diner plan is five minutes to let the street settle and to get you off that yellow target. Then I'm taking you to people I trust."

"You said Crewe."

"Crewe if we have to run farther. Right now I need local. Equinox. Alden North. He built a shop in the old mill and he doesn't spook when a Hawthorne shows up bleeding trouble."

I wrap both hands around the mug. The ceramic is almost too hot. "Equinox?"

“Equinox Security. I work there on days when I’m not busy doing other shit.”

I nod.

"But these past few months I’ve been busy looking for my father."

“When did he go missing?” I ask him, and my voice is lower than I intend for it to be. And it’s the first time I’ve realized how serious I am. There’s no sting or flirt to my voice.

“Years ago. We actually thought he was dead for a really long time. Then we started getting sightings of him sent to us. My brother, Nash, he’s the oldest, had a man named Dean Maddox tell us he’s alive.”

“And you all believe him?”

He nods, and scrubs a hand down his beard. “Saw him a few months ago. We finally thought we had all the answers, then he was taken and the trail went cold. I was checking on a few leads nearby, and ran into you.”

“Lucky me.” And honestly it is lucky. “I’d be dead by now if you hadn’t.” And for the first time since the first bullet shot through the air, I realize… Colt Hawthorne has saved my life. A warm feeling rushes through my chest and I feel tingly all over, and I hate myself for that. I shake it off, and lean back into teasing. “So Equinox Security. Alden. He’s trustworthy?”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend.”

"You have friends. I'm writing that down." I smile at him and he gives me this very attractive, very cute half-smirk.

"Write quieter."

The pie lands between us, one plate, two forks, an unspoken dare. I take a bite because I said I would. It's tart and decent and the first ordinary thing that's happened since I ran into a wall of flannel on that ridge. Colt doesn't touch his fork. He watches the door without blinking long enough to count.

"You're allowed to eat," I tell him.

"I'm allowed to leave you here and walk the lot. I'm not going to. Eat faster."