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“Walk home. I don’t have a car. But it’s not far—”
“No, no. Time is of the essence. Grab your things and wait out front. I’ll meet you there after I get one of the other servers to cover your section.”
“Sure thing.” She racked her empty tray, swung by the break room to retrieve her purse, and then headed across the lobby. Ed Pinkerton from the hardware store sat on one of the bent willow rockers stationed on the generous covered porch, having a smoke with two other middle-aged men she recognized from the diner. They looked her way when she stepped outside.
“Hey, Roxy. Break time?”
She strolled over. “Sort of.”
Ed offered his pack to her.
“No thanks. I’m just waiting for Mrs. Whelan. She’s giving me a ride home to get my…”
Three sets of eyes went round, and Ed crossed himself.
“…guitar. What?”
“You’re voluntarily getting in the car with Sarah Whelan?”
“Y-yes. Why?”
“No reason.” Ed rocked harder, making jerking, whiplash motions. The other two men nodded. One said, “Buckle up, girl.”
Awesome. “You know, maybe I will have just one quick puff.” Before I die.
Ed held his pack out again. She slid a cigarette free and then leaned in so he could light her up. Straightening, she took a long, grateful puff.
The door opened behind her, inspiring another greedy drag before she turned to face her fate.
West stood there, keys in hand, wearing the shit out of a midnight suit and looking even more formidable and—damn her twisted streak—irresistible up close. Every cell in her body snapped to attention when his eyes narrowed on the cigarette.
“We talked about this, Reckless.”
Chapter Nine
Roxy stared up at him with huge eyes as he slid the cigarette from between her pouting lips. When it popped free, she shivered. Just enough for him to pick up on the brief, unintentional show of susceptibility. Whether caused by him stimulating sensitive nerve endings in her lips, or by the tension between them, he couldn’t guess, but the small reaction proved one very big fact: his effort to let the attraction between them fade was a colossal failure. He wanted her more than ever. And there was no hiding it. Even Ed and his cronies could sense the undercurrents, judging by the coughs and throat clearing going on.
“West,” one of them said, by way of greeting.
“Gentlemen.” He inclined his head without taking his eyes off her. “Sorry to cut things short, but I have to borrow Roxy.”
That unfroze her. She took a step back and shook her head. “I’m not a library book just sitting around for you to take off the shelf. I’m waiting for Sarah.”
He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray by the door. “Sarah asked me to run you home. Her exact instructions were, ‘Floor it, Donovan. This is a freaking emergency.’”
Her mouth firmed into a frown while she crossed her arms and considered his information. Would she march inside and make a fuss or accept the situation gracefully?
“Fine. Whatever.”
Graceful acceptance…sort of.
She turned on her heel and sent an over-the-shoulder smile to the older men. “Back in a flash, fellows.”
“We’ll be here,” Ed replied.
Roxy started down the steps, and he lost a moment appreciating what she did for a plain white button-down and a pair of black pants—easily the most understated ensemble he’d ever seen her wear. The androgynous outfit turned into a sexy proposition on her. As usual for work, she’d edited her abundance of jewelry down to small silver heart earrings and tamed her hair into a thick, loose braid that trailed over her shoulder and made her look like a Scandinavian princess. He imagined twisting the length around his fist and using it to guide her head precisely where he wanted it.
Fuck. His jacket felt too hot, his tie too tight, and his blood too heavy. Despite all that, he buttoned his jacket to conceal the battering ram in his pants. This quick favor might just kill him.
