Chapter Two
Some Heroes
“Ow. Owowowowowow. Heather, no more. I’m fine.”
“The website said to immerse frostbitten extremities in warm water until normal color returns. Your fingertips are still purple.”
“I’m closing up.” The diner’s manager, William Wilson, or Dubya, lingered at the open archway connecting the kitchens to the area behind the counter. He chewed worriedly on his lower lip while watching Heather keep my hands immersed in a bowl of warm water. “No one’s going to come in this time of night during a blizzard. As soon as your fingers are no longer Grimace-colored, Shiloh, I’m sending everyone home.”
“What about the police?” Heather wanted to know.
“Like that’s going to help,” I muttered before Dubya could open his mouth. “That dude’s long gone, if Romeo didn’t kill him.”
“I already called the police, since that’s the protocol set up by the owners—all criminal incidents on-property must be reported to law enforcement.” To no one’s surprise, Dubya was able to quote Buzzby’s bylaw from memory, reminding me more than ever of Napoleon Dynamite with his pedantic mannerisms, frizzy hair, thick glasses and ever-present overbite. “Since you’re not dead and the perpetrator wasn’t apprehended, the authorities have chosen to wait until the blizzard is over before sending anyone out to make a report.”
“Of course,” Heather muttered, checking the water’s temperature. “Lots of fancy words to tell us bupkis is gonna happen, and that we’re basically on our own. Thanks for the update, Dubya.”
“I don’t even know if the perpetrator was apprehended or not.” I tried again to get up, only to have Heather yank me back down with a mini splash. Damn it. “Whatever happened to Romeo? I thought he would be right behind me.”
“He came in for a second, then went back outside.” Dubya jerked a thumb over his shoulder without looking, his gaze focused instead on my submerged fingers. They were no longer an angry-looking puce, but rather a gentle sort of lavender-to-pinkish color. Since the warm water no longer burned like acid, I had a feeling I was going to live. “Seems to me he wanted to make sure the area was clear before you tried heading back out.”
“No chance of that, unless I can bunk down with one of you guys tonight,” I said, trying to keep the rising panic at bay as I began to see just how much trouble I was still in. “My car keys got dropped in the snow somewhere, and my apartment key is on that key ring. I could get my super to unlock my apartment for me, but since he’s usually in a Wild Turkey fog by this time of night, it’s kind of a long shot.”
“Didn’t you once tell me you have a brother?” Heather said, frowning at my fingertips. “Did you ever give him a key to your place? Or maybe a neighbor…?”
“No.” I kept my eyes down and prayed she wouldn’t ask any more questions, like why I didn’t trust my neighbors—or my own family—with a key to my place. I couldn’t begin to explain without tearing open wounds I half-believed would never heal, so keeping answers to a minimum was the only option left.
“Well,” Dubya sighed gustily, giving me the distinct impression the end of his patience was fast approaching, “you need to figure something out, Shiloh, because tomorrow morning that parking lot’s going to be plowed clear. All that snow is going to be piled up on the edges, growing as hard as concrete as it compacts, and your keys are going to be somewhere inside of all that mess. You’re not going to see them until spring.”
“Perfect.” Who knew that being a paranoid freak and not trusting anyone with a key would be a problem in the grand scheme of things? Silly me, I’d actually thought keeping everyone at a distance would be the safest thing I could do.
“Tell you what.” At last letting go of my hands, Heather grabbed up a nearby towel and dried off her fingers. “Dubya and I will take turns going out there sifting through the snow looking for your keys.”
Dubya did a semi pearl-clutch. “We will?”
“Of course we will.” Nodding staunchly, Heather stood up and reached for her coat slung over the back of her chair. “I’ll go first, while Dubya starts filling out incident reports and who-knows-what-all. The only thing I need from you, Shiloh, is a starting point. If you can tell me where you were when you dropped them, I’m sure we can find your keys for you.”
“Don’t worry about it, I got ‘em.” Appearing behind Dubya and standing a foot taller than the other man, Romeo held up a gloved hand. When I saw the familiar framed photo keyring hanging from his fingers, I couldn’t help but let out a relieved cry.
“You found them.” I was out of my chair, across the kitchen and ready to fling myself into his arms before I stopped myself. Holy crap. Holy frigging crap, what the hell was I doing? I didn’t touch people, especially men. Not now. I had to be more shaken up than I thought. “I… Sorry. Sorry.”
Romeo looked at me quizzically. “For what?”
“I can’t believe you found my keys,” I said, ignoring him. There was no way to explain how sorry I was that I had a random yearning for basic human contact—specifically with him—so I didn’t even try. “How did you even know to look for them?”
“I didn’t. I just went out to make sure no one was hanging around and I stepped right on ‘em. Knew they had to be yours the moment I saw you in that picture with your family. Good-looking fam, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I wondered if everyone else felt the life bleed out of the world before I cleared my throat and held out my now-neon pink hand. “I mean it. Thank you for finding them, and thank you for coming to my rescue. In every way possible, you really came through for me tonight.”
“Damn, look at your hands.” Instead of handing over my keys like I’d expected him to, a look of alarm flashed across his face before he tucked my keys into his pocket, ripped off his gloves, which also landed in his jacket pockets, and grabbed my hands in both of his. His touch burned white hot, so much so I couldn’t stifle a gasping wince, and he quickly sandwiched both my hands in his. “What the hell are you doing out in the middle of a Chicago blizzard without any gloves on, lady?”
“It wasn’t blizzarding when I got here.”
“It was in the forecast.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. “Was it?”
“You’re from Chicago. It’s January. Everyone knows shit weather is going to happen.”
“I lost my gloves and I hate shopping, so long story short, no gloves.”
“You need a keeper.” He began rubbing his hands vigorously over mine, causing enough friction to start a forest fire. Any second now I fully expected to see smoke coming out from where our hands touched. “I swear, I look at you and I’m amazed that wind out there didn’t blow you away. Tomorrow I’m getting you gloves.”
Wait, what? “Romeo, thank you but no, you don’t—”
“You’ve been running around the city with naked hands,” Heather cut in, joining us in the open doorway. “Honestly, it’s getting embarrassing. Let the man get you some gloves, okay? You need them.”
For the first time in my life, I tried to murder someone with a glare. “It’s no big deal, Heather.”
“Exactly. No big deal. I mean, it’s just gloves, right? It’s not like it’s an engagement ring.” Heather laughed at her own joke, clearly enjoying it so much she didn’t notice that no one else laughed with her. “Just accept that this guy is hero material and let him do his thing, okay?”
“I’m no hero,” Romeo muttered, gripping my hands tight before cautiously letting them go, as if fearing they’d fall off if he moved too fast. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”
“Sometimes that’s all that’s needed.” Dubya took Romeo’s hand and pumped it sincerely in both of his. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for looking out for Shiloh, Mr. uh… Romeo?”
“Romeo’ll do.”
“Right. Romeo. Sweet.” Looking like he’d never talked to a cool kid in his life, Dubya stood straighter and shot me a glance that was almost human. “Shiloh’s part of the family here, so believe me when I say we’re all grateful to you for being there for her tonight. Crazy how anyone would be out in this weather trying to mug somebody. I still can’t believe something like that happened. I mean, it’s a freaking blizzard out there. Who mugs in a blizzard?”
“It takes all kinds, I guess.” Shrugging like he couldn’t care less, Romeo locked his gaze on me like I was the only one in the room. “How’re you holding up? Do you need me to take you to the hospital for that frostbite, or any other injuries you’ve got that I don’t know about?”
“I’m fine.” It would take a heck of a lot more than a parka-wearing grizzly bear to get the better of me, or so I told myself while various aches and pains tried to let themselves be known. “I just want to go home. So, if I could have my keys…?”
He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded once before fishing them out of his pocket. But the moment I grasped them he took hold of my hand and held it—not hard, but I instinctively knew my hand belonged to him until he deemed otherwise. “My truck’s been de-iced, while yours is still buried in snow. My engine’s warmed up, and the heater’s blowing some nice hot air to keep things comfortable. Let me take you home.”
Home.
That word spawned a painful ache in my chest, because not too long ago I’d feared I’d never see my little apartment again. Not to mention the task of clearing off all the snow and ice currently encasing my pickup made my tender hands throb, so that made my decision an easy one. I gave him a small nod and a smile that felt as tired as I suddenly was, and I turned to pick up my coat.
“Thank you, Romeo. Again. I promise I’ll get my truck out of here tomorrow, Dubya,” I added before he could even think about busting my chops. “Right now, I just want to go home.”
Dubya hesitated before shooting Romeo a wary glance. “I… didn’t say a word.”
“I don’t know if your hands will have enough dexterity to handle driving tomorrow, and I can only imagine what a train wreck you’ll be trying to juggle plates.” Romeo’s dubious gaze went from my pink hands to Dubya. “You know she’s going to be a walking catastrophe tomorrow, right?”
I gasped out loud. “I’ll have you know I’ve never dropped a plate in all the years I’ve worked here!”
“Right. And how many times have you had frostbite?”
I stared at my hands and tried to touch each finger to my thumb. Nothing worked. “Um…”
“Take tomorrow off,” Dubya said with a generous air that I hadn’t thought he was capable of. “Just make sure you take good care of those hands.”
“Let me walk you guys out.” Holding me back on the excuse of putting on our coats together, Heather shot a quick glance at Romeo as he headed for the front of the restaurant. “Shiloh, I need to remind you of something. Something important.”
“What?”
“Some heroes don’t wear capes.”
I also glanced toward Romeo, then fumbled at the coat’s fastenings with my nearly useless hands. Honestly, when the heck were they going to start following commands to move? “He was pretty amazing, dealing with that mugger, I’ll give you that.”
“Yeah, but what I’m talking about is something totally different. When did that big guy over there finish his meal and leave?”
“Um.” I frowned and turned to stare at the empty booth where Romeo had sat plowing through his club sandwich and fries with brown gravy. It was a little alarming how completely I could remember every last detail of him in that moment. “A couple hours ago, I guess. His ticket would have the exact time, if you need it.”
“A couple hours will do, because a couple hours tells me all I need to know. And it should tell you all that you need to know, too.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Shiloh, think. That gorgeous specimen of a man sat out there in a blizzard and waited hours for you to leave the restaurant.” Heather said the words in the same tone one might say, “You just won the lottery.” “Don’t you see? He left hours ago. So why isn’t he home safe and sound, polishing the chrome on his Harley or whatever? What’s he still doing here?”
I tilted my head just enough to see Romeo out of the corner of my eye. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll tell you what he’s still doing here,” Heather muttered, sounding oddly triumphant. “He’s looking out for you, his favorite little waitress that’s got him in a spin. I’ll bet tomorrow’s tips that he was worried about you getting home in this horrible weather, so after he left here, he hunkered down in his truck and went into protective mode. Granted, he got more than he bargained for when that mugger showed up, but that’s okay, because heroes like him take a thing like a mugging all in stride. That’s why he sprang into action like it was just another day ending in Y. And that’s why I say some heroes don’t wear capes. Some of them wear biker jackets.”
“I guess sometimes they do,” I murmured faintly while my attention swung back to Romeo just in time for him to turn around and lock gazes with me, one hand resting on the diner door’s push-bar handle.
Without warning, my heart tripped over itself.
Whoa.
“Shiloh?” Romeo lifted his chin my way as I absently pressed a hand to my misbehaving heart. “You coming, or what?”
Again my heart did a weird little flip-flop before I nodded. “I’m coming.”
*
Romeo hadn’t been kidding. The interior of his truck was so warm and toasty I quickly wished I hadn’t done up all the buttons of my coat. I thought about putting my fingers up to one of the vents gushing out hot air, but at this point I figured they’d thaw out all on their own without me burning them in the process.
“I’m in Lake Meadows Townhomes in South Loop, so only four miles or so from here. And they’re not really townhomes, trust me on this. They’re tiny little apartments crowded one on top of the other with weird layouts and paper-thin walls.” I gave him the exact address, all the while not sure why, since I was there to give him turn-by-turn instructions on how to get to my place. That was when I realized I was babbling and would probably be better off just shutting up and trying not to think about what Heather had said.
But…
Had Romeo waited for me to leave the restaurant tonight? Now that the rush of terror and adrenaline had passed, the fact that he’d been there didn’t make any sense. He should have been long gone. Yet he’d been right there to land on my attacker with all fours, just when I’d thought I was doomed. At the time, I’d been so grateful I hadn’t been able to think of anything except that I was still alive, and it was all thanks to him.
But now…
Why had Romeo been there?
And why did he risk his life to save me?
Because that’s what he did. He put himself in danger because of me. That giant in a parka could have snapped anyone in two if he’d had a mind to do it, so…
Why?
“Shiloh?”
“What?” I jumped, jolted out of my spinning thoughts, then offered a feeble laugh to cover the embarrassment at my overreaction. “Sorry. I, uh… I guess I’m still recovering, or whatever.”
“No need to apologize.” His voice was surprisingly gentle, a tone I never imagined I’d hear from a wannabe tough guy. The unexpectedness of it melted something vital inside me, because for the first time I thought there might be more to this man than just the biker fa?ade that made every part of me cringe. “Anyone would be shaken up by what happened tonight, yeah? Just know that you’re safe with me, no matter what. To my mind, all that matters from here on in is you. That’s a promise.”
I waved a useless hand that was still alarmingly pink even in the semi-darkness. “Really, you don’t have to worry about me, I’m doing great. I’m just… I guess I’m trying to work it all out in my mind.”
“What’s there to work out?”
“Why were you still there at the diner?” The words were out before I knew I was going to say them. “I mean, you’d left hours earlier. Why were you at Buzzby’s?”
There was a beat of silence. “That’s what you’re trying to figure out? My motives? Lady,” he snorted, shaking his head in clear incredulity, “anybody ever tell you that you’ve got one helluva suspicious mind?”
“I know I do. It’s a flaw, seriously. It’s just…” I blew out a breath before giving my rescuer a crooked smile. “I guess I just want to know if you were lowkey stalking me. And if you were, it’s okay, because you wound up saving my life, Romeo. I could never be mad at you after something like that.”
“Lowkey stalking you. Man, you’re a piece of work,” he murmured as if to himself, shaking his head. At first I thought he was angry, but when he slanted a look my way and I caught the humor in his eyes, I allowed myself to relax. “I got a newsflash for you, Miss Paranoid—not everyone’s out to get you. You’re hot, no doubt about it, and like I said, I like you. If I want to make sure you get your ass home safely in shit weather like this, then that’s what I’m going to do. If you want to call that stalking, go right ahead, but it’s nowhere near the truth.”
So Heather had been right. He’d been genuinely worried about me traveling in this hellacious blizzard. That odd melting deep inside increased, and I found myself smiling over at him as he carefully drove through the nearly deserted streets of The Loop. “Thank you.”
He glanced at me.
“I mean it, Romeo. Thank you for worrying about me. It’s been a while since anyone’s done that sort of thing.”
“Yeah?” Again he slanted a look my way. “No man in your life? No family?”
I shook my head and wiped my expression of all emotion. “Nope.”
“What about the photo on your keyring? There were people in it besides you.”
“That photo’s several years old. I was eighteen and still living at home. Now I’m not.”
“Moving out doesn’t mean you stop having family.”
“True.” I shifted in my seat, but it didn’t make the weight of grief, regret and helpless rage any easier to bear. “I wish I still had my family around, but I’m not really on speaking terms with my parents. And my brother… He lives a life that’s well beyond my reach.”
“What does that mean?”
“My brother’s a hero, and I’m a zero. Turn right here.” I indicated the driveway that led to the squat brick building where I lived. “Be careful, there’s a speed bump right ahead, but the snow’s so deep you can hardly see it.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He navigated a path close to the front entrance of my building, then put the truck into Park so he could turn to face me fully. “What do you mean, you’re a zero and he’s a hero? Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
“It’s not.” After all this time I’d made a numb sort of peace with it.
He didn’t move. “So, is he in the military and some kind of war hero? Or maybe some kind of Wall Street hotshot or money guy, and he looks down on you because you’re a waitress? Which, by the way, is solid work, nothing to be ashamed of.”
“My brother would never look down on me. He’s my hero.”
“How? Like, did he save your life, or—”
“Thanks so much for the ride, and everything else you did tonight. I really am grateful.” Burning with the need to escape, I had my seatbelt unbuckled and door open before he could finish his sentence. Snow crunched under my feet when I slid out of the truck, and I gave myself the meager luxury of looking back at him. He really was the most aggressively masculine, thoroughly hot man I’d come across in a long, long time… but that usually meant all sorts of trouble I wanted nothing to do with. “Please be careful driving home, okay? I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” Not even sure why I said that, I slammed the truck’s door before he could say anything and hurried into the apartment building.