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Chapter 7
Early the next morning, I was showered and dressed when there was a light rap on the door. I zipped my suitcase closed and then went to answer it.
Smoke held a cup of to-go coffee and a paper bag from the diner in his hands.
“Good morning,” I greeted. When he didn’t reply, my brow furrowed. “What?”
He was staring at me, his gaze trained on my head.
“What?” I asked again.
“Your hair.”
“What about it?” I asked defensively.
“It’s…you’ve got curls.”
I hastily touched my blonde wavy locks in concern. “Yeah. I usually blow-dry and straighten it. Is it bad?”
“No,” he said gruffly. “Not bad at all.” He thrust the cup of coffee toward me and handed me the bag. “Wasn’t sure how you took it, so it’s black. Sugar and creamer are in there.”
I opened the bag and peered inside. “You got me a pastry…”
“Thought you might want a quick bite before we hit the road.”
Pleasure skated through my chest at his thoughtfulness. I immediately squashed it. “What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“Did you eat? Get some coffee?”
He nodded. “I’ve been up since five.”
“Oh.”
Smoke moved past me into the room and went over to the bed and grabbed my suitcase.
“I’ll meet you in the truck,” he said.
I shook my head in confusion at his behavior.
He’d noticed my hair. He’d brought me coffee and a pastry. But he was clearly blowing me off now.
What the fuck is going on? And why do I care?
I sugared and creamed my coffee to make it palatable, did one last sweep of the room, and then went out to the parking lot. Smoke was checking the tire pressure on the truck, so I climbed into the passenger side and got comfortable.
The pastry was halfway gone by the time Smoke was done.
“You good?” he asked after he climbed into the cab.
I nodded.
“You don’t need anything?”
I shook my head.
“All right. Let’s get on the road. You can pick the radio station.”
