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The distant roar of a Harley grew louder, and Lizzie looked up from the coffee she was pouring for a regular customer, a truck driver who traveled I-95 from Miami to New Jersey every week.
“Sorry, Nate,” Lizzie murmured, righting the carafe before liquid overflowed the cup.
“No problem, Liz,” Nate replied, sipping the scalding brew and following her gaze to the front windows.
A single light swung into the parking lot, and Lizzie ducked her head on a grin.
“Lucky guy,” Nate mused aloud.
Lizzie frowned, “What do you mean?”
Nate shrugged, “Lucky guy who can put that smile on your face.”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Lizzie argued.
And when Maker split the double glass doors, and his eyes zeroed on Lizzie, looking her up and down, and then once satisfied, he moved to his corner booth, back to the wall, Nate went on, “I’d say it’s exactly like that.”
The blush that crept up Lizzie’s cheeks heated her skin, “I’ll be back.”
She crossed the sparsely populated dining room, watching Maker watch her walk.
And didn’tthatdo all kinds of flippy things to her stomach.
When she hit the table, Maker gestured to the seat opposite his. “You got a minute?”
Lizzie slid into the booth, “Sure.”
“How long until your shift is over?” Maker asked.
“We close at midnight, and then I’ve got about another half hour of work after that,” Lizzie answered.
Maker checked the clock hanging over the door to the kitchen. “I’ve got an errand, but I’ll be back to follow you home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Lizzie said, twisting her hands in her lap and trying to ignore the frantic pace of her heart.
Maker extended his hand across the table, palm up.
Lizzie studied his hand for a moment and then slid her hand into his.
Maker squeezed, “Who’s the guy who was bird dogging you when I walked in?”
“Bird dogging?” Lizzie asked, brows raised in confusion.
“The guy who was watching you like you were van Gogh and his coffee mug wasStarry Night.”
“That’s Nate, and I don’t think he was looking at me like that,” Lizzie giggled.
Nate had never crossed any kind of line that made Lizzie uncomfortable, and she didn’t imagine he’d start now.
“He did manage to reel his tongue back in. I’ll give him that.”
“He said you were a lucky guy,” Lizzie whispered.
Maker leaned forward, and his expression clouding even darker, “I’m not just lucky. I’m the luckiest motherfucker walking the planet that a girl as beautiful as you would spend any kind of time with a monster like me.”
Lizzie’s eyes went soft, “You’re not a monster.” When Maker started to argue, Lizzie interrupted, “Well, you haven’t been a monster to me.”
“Don’t ever forget what I am, Lizzie,” Maker said.
