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The dance floor crowd parted for Hawk’s large frame and he came upon the two young women in just a few long strides. His gaze swept past the blonde and went straight to Tildy, who was now looking at only him. She was smiling at him in the same way she had at the garage, like they were old friends or something. Hawk couldn’t help but smile back.
The blonde stopped up short when he reached them, her jaw practically landing on the floor. Hawk reached out to Tildy and pulled her forward, tucking her underneath his arm as he put himself between her and her friend.
“You found the place,” he said.
“Yeah,” Tildy replied. “It wasn’t hard, once I saw all the bikes parked out front.”
“Hi, there,” the blonde said, and Hawk was forced to turn to her. She stuck her chest out about as far as she could without actually pressing herself against him.
He merely nodded at her.
“I’m Skylar,” she said.
“Hawk.”
He led them across the bar and to the table with the others. “This is Tildy,” he announced to Doc and Vegas, who had not met her yet. “And her friend.”
Before anyone could say anything, the friend cried, “Tildy?!”
Everyone turned to look at her.
“Tildy?” the blonde repeated.
Tildy’s face turned red. “Um.”
“What on Earth?” the blonde asked.
Tildy grimaced.
“Your name isn’t Tildy?” Doc asked, instantly suspicious. Probably spent too long being a cop, Hawk thought.
Tildy looked a little caught out. “I…”
“Matilda,” the blonde informed them. “Her name is Matilda. And no one ever calls her anything but Matilda.”
“Matilda?” Vegas asked, crinkling her nose. “Ouch.”
The blonde laughed a little too loudly. “Her parents would die if anyone ever called her anything else. She’s just poor little Matilda.”
No one else seemed to get the joke. Hawk decided right then that the blonde was trouble.
“Tildy?”
Everyone turned to Slick who had managed to get a free moment to check on the group. “I thought you weren’t going to come,” Slick said.
“Well…” Tildy said rather lamely.
Hawk narrowed his eyes at Slick. He just did not get what her problem was.
“Tildy,” the blonde said, “just had to come after she says Hawk invited her.” When she said his name, she put her hand on his arm.
Hawk’s jaw twitched in irritation. He had invited Tildy. He’d been waiting all evening hoping she’d come. Hawk may not know what the hell was up with Slick, but he for damn sure knew the blonde’s game now. She was the center of attention-always. He didn’t know exactly how Tildy had become ‘friends’ with a chick like this, but he was pretty certain that Blondie felt like she was oh-so-nice letting Tildy tag along with her to places.
“How about a drink?” the blonde asked him.
Hawk jerked his chin at Slick. “She’ll take your order.” He turned to Tildy. “You want anything to drink?”
Tildy looked a bit surprised at that, like she’d forgotten for a second that she was at a bar. The blonde laughed again, that haughty fucking laugh that really got under Hawk’s skin. “Oh Matilda doesn’t drink. Well,” she said to Slick, “you can get her a Club Soda. I’ll have a beer.”
Hawk kept his attention on Tildy. “Do you want anything?” he asked her again.
“Hello,” the blonde said, starting to get a slight edge to her voice. “She doesn’t drink. She doesn’t do anything.”
Hawk had known this girl less than five minutes and he was already sick of her. “Well, surely she dances,” he declared. He took Tildy by the hand and led her to the dance floor while everyone watched. When they were far enough away from everyone else, he put Tildy’s hands on his own shoulders and slid his hands around her small waist. He drew her in close.
“I’m sorry,” Tildy said. “She’s-”
“I don’t care about her,” Hawk declared. He leaned closer to her. “I’m glad you came.”
Tildy blushed. Hawk thought about all the ways in which he could keep her blushing all night long. He reached out and traced a finger down the open neck-line of her blouse. She drew in a sharp breath. He hooked the gold chain and brought out the medallion.
“You fixed it.” He turned the medal over with his fingers. It was a small gold disk with Latin inscribed around the outside. “What’s it say?” He spoke a lot of languages, but Latin wasn’t one of them.
“St. Christopher guide my way,” she told him.
He nodded and looked at her again. “What is he the saint of?”
“Plagues, mostly.”
Surprised by her answer, Hawk threw back his head and laughed. She grinned at him. “Tildy, I’m pretty sure you’re safe from plagues.”
“Guess it’s totally working, then.”
He laughed again.
“But he’s also the patron saint of travelers,” she continued.
“It means a lot to you,” he said, remembering the look on her face when it broke.
She nodded. “When I was born, my parents hired a nanny to raise me. She was from Mexico. Her name was Isabel. She taught me Spanish in secret, and she called me ‘Tildy,’ her secret name for me. Skylar’s right, my parents would freak out if anyone called me anything but Matilda. It was my great-grandmother’s name. I hate it, but Isabel would always make up stories about a brave little girl named Tildy. She also gave me the medal. She told me that if I kept it safe, it would keep me safe. If I ever got lost, she said, it would help me find my way home.”
