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“I’ll walk you out.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. Just point me the way.”
He scoffs. “A pretty little thing like you, walking alone on this side of town? You’re just begging a Disciple to drive by and grab you. I’m not going to be the reason your family never hears from you again.”
I nod. “Okay. Walk me to the diner. But you should come back here. You need someone behind the desk so your sister’s not alone with those guys.”
He just chuckles and shakes his head, holding open a back door. We step out onto another street. I’ve been down this street a hundred times and never even knew the unmarked cinderblock building was the back of the tattoo shop. The front side has a parking lot, albeit small, on a street with a liquor store, pawn shop, used tire shop, and some other stores. The back opens onto a street with a sidewalk, and further down, the little shopping center with the kind of old-fashioned storefrontswhere each shop is part of one long, two-story building, like you might see on Main Street in any small town in America.
Maverick walks me to Downtown Diner and opens the door for me, stepping in behind me. The smell of fryer oil and syrup hangs heavy in the air, and the inside is dimly lit, each red, Formica table topped with a rack containing salt, pepper, ketchup, sugar packets, and a handful of laminated menus.
“Let me get your meal,” he says.
“I got it,” I grit out, just wanting him to go away.
“If you really want a job, this place is hiring.”
The owner, Scarface Scarlet, comes over from wiping down a table and throws an arm around Maverick’s neck, going up on tiptoes to lay a loud smack on his cheek that leaves a lipstick print in plain sight. “How’s my favorite nephew?” she asks. “Can I get y’all started with some drinks?”
“I’ve got to head back,” Maverick says, his gaze snagging on mine with a question clear in every fleck of gold in his green eyes. “Make sure she gets to her car okay?”
“You know it,” Scarlet says. “Now go on, get out of here before all the girls see you and run out without paying their tabs.”
“Hold on,” Mav says, leaning down to give her head a quick kiss. “Just let me say hi to Dynamo, then I’ll get.”
My heart sinks, and I turn slowly, suspended in one of those dreams you can’t wake up from no matter how hard you try. Maverick is standing at a table by the window, talking to Colt and Dixie. Before I can duck out and bolt, he looks up and gestures me over. The legs that carry me across the room belong to someone else.
“Hey, babe,” Maverick says, pulling me into his chest. He gives my ass a firm squeeze and my forehead a gentle kiss at the same time, which makes my head spin out like a fucking tilt-a-whirl. I’m glad I’m holding onto him because otherwise Imight collapse entirely. My brain is threatening to short-circuit from trying to process the sheer volume of shit that’s gone down today, and this is the very last thing it needs. “I was just telling Dynamo to get you back to your car before they leave.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, drawing back. That was just the dose of ice water in the face I needed. “I’m not some damsel in distress for you to pawn off on your friends. Especially nothim.”
It’s a relief, after stumbling through the dark all day, to find my feet treading this familiar path, our insults as comfortable and familiar as my own bed.
“Babe?” Colt asks, leaning back in his chair and smirking up at us.
“What?” I demand.
He nods at Maverick. “He called you babe.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then I cling to the one thing that can save me, that can keep me from dying of humiliation on the spot.
I lean into Maverick’s side again and giving Colt my most vicious smile. Whether or not he remembers last year, he definitely remembers a few days ago. He saw me in his driveway, and he closed the curtain and went back to bed. Withher.
And even though he probably doesn’t give a single fuck who’s calling me babe, if I can’t hurt him the way he hurt me, at least I can pretend it means as little to me as it did to him. That he’s not the only one fucking someone else.
“What about it?” I ask, sliding my hand into Mav’s back pocket and trying to look like one half of a cool, tough, casual couple.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” Dixie asks, bristling.
“Nothing,” Colt says, shoving a big bite of pancake into his mouth. “Y’all fucking now?”
“That’s none of your business,” I say in my iciest tone. “Loser.”
Colt just shakes his head and takes a swig of coffee, then tips his chin at Maverick. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars right now if you can tell me her name.”
“Colt,” Dixie cries, her eyes going wide. “Don’t give him that much money!”
“Don’t worry,” he assures her, looking so fucking smug I want to punch him straight in that gorgeous, cruel mouth. “I won’t.”
