Chapter 14
An hour later I’m still burning inside, but we’re in the truck. I’m now wearing Diesel’s jogging pants rolled at the waist with one of his flannels that is swallowing me whole. With my work boots.
It’s not a great look, but I’m too frustrated to care.
Diesel still hasn’t told me what the call was about. Caleb hasn’t checked in, so I’m in the dark.
The engine goes quiet when Diesel hits the power button, sweeping his gaze over every object and tree within a hundred yards.
“Is this place abandoned?” I ask.
It’s a warehouse with graffiti tags all over the corrugated metal siding, weeds are shoving through cracks in the concrete.
“Hardly.”
He comes around to open my door, keeping me close as he scans the perimeter and my skin prickles at the reminder that someone may want me dead.
“Stay close,” he rumbles.
“Any closer and I’d need a saddle for you.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t smile.
When we get to the entrance, there’s a man standing outside. Hands folded in front of his lap, boots braced apart, he’s downright mean-looking in his blacked-out glasses.
“Sy, thanks for coming.” Diesel tips his chin.
“No problem.”
I can’t see the man’s eyes, but I don’t have to. I’m being sized up.
He opens the door for us. “She’s waiting.”
“Friendly,” I mutter when we’re inside. “Must be a relative of yours.”
“Stone is highly effective,” Diesel says and I swear that’s affection in his tone.
“At scaring people?”
“At keeping the perimeter secure while we’re busy.”
My curiosity has reached peak state.
The vestibule entry opens into a cavernous room lit by industrial lights hanging from exposed rafters. Tactical vehicles take up half of the space and hard-sided gear cases line one wall.
Diesel motions me ahead and as I turn the corner, a splash of color makes me tilt my head. That’s odd.
Under one of the lights is a cluster of clothing racks forming a V, and a folding table covered in fabric samples.
“The famous River Allison, Queen of Valentine’s Day,” a woman says, stepping forward, her long braids swaying as she walks toward me.
Her smile is like sunshine in the cold, concrete and steel space. “I’m Dee Dee. It’s an honor to work with you.”
“Nice to meet you. But I’m not sure what work with me means. And famous is still a dream I’m chasing.”
I don’t add that my Valentine’s Day event opportunity went up in smoke with my truck.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“I heard you have a wardrobe emergency, I’m the one-woman fashion rescue squad.” She gestures to the racks with a flourish. “We’re going to dress you for the event.”
My jaw drops, heart skipping a beat.
I spin around, pinning Diesel with a glare. “You arranged this?”
He gives me one of those male looks. Noncommittal.
“We don’t have much time before your show,” she says as I turn to stare, speechless at the clothing.
I’m incapable of anything.
“So I pulled some options together, mostly ready-made pieces I can alter,” she says, “plus I can do custom work if you need it. Diesel put out the distress call, I’m here to help.”
No. What?
My throat closes on hot tears, and I have to look away from both of them while the weight of it crashes through me.
He did this.
Somehow, between last night’s disaster and this morning’s breakfast, he found a way to give me back what I lost.
I can’t look at him for a long minute because if I do, I might actually cry, and that’s not happening in front of him.
There’s one other problem. It’s a beautiful gesture, but one I can’t accept.
Face beginning to heat, I tell them both, “I can’t afford new things. Not like this.”
“Already covered.” His voice comes from behind me, close enough that I feel the heat of him radiating across my back through the flannel. “Consider it part of the protection detail.”
The reply doesn’t help me in the least.
“Why did you do this? I figured you and Caleb would do everything including chaining me up to keep me from going to the event since you believe someone’s out to hurt me.”
He doesn’t look away, he doesn’t blink, just filets me with that stare. “I did this because I know you want to go to the event, and to do that you need new things.”
He nods toward Dee Dee like that’s the end of the conversation. “Let her work.”
The stinging in the back of my eyes rivals fire ant bites.
I drop my chin, wrapping my arms around myself. This is bad. Diesel is chipping away at all of my defenses. I can’t afford to let him in. I won’t survive.
Dee Dee is humming, already pulling garments from the racks. She gathers rhinestone-studded shirts that catch the industrial light, form-fitting jeans with intricate embroidery, a matching vest similar to one I lost in the fire.
All of it is beautiful. Too expensive.
“Wait till you see what I brought for him.” Dee Dee winks and pulls another rack into view, and my brain stutters to a halt when she lifts a western cut men’s shirt in a rich, vibrant shade of pink.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out to touch the fabric. “This is for Diesel?”
“Can’t have your boyfriend looking out of place at those Valentine’s parties, can we?”
The world tilts beneath my boots as I quickly reject her remark. “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
Diesel steps forward, his presence suddenly massive beside me. “What parties?”
Dee Dee looks between us with confusion creasing her forehead. “The sponsor events. The meet-and-greets. You’ve got two major evening activities before your big competition on Sunday, plus some daytime meetings.”
“That’s right,” I say, at the same instant Diesel says, “No.”
Our eyes lock across the space between us, and I recognize that stubborn line he’s got to his mouth.
“What exactly are you saying no to?” I ask him.
“You’re not going to any parties.”
I tilt my head, the wave of cold disappointment threatening to crest over me. “But I get to compete?”
“That’s different, you’re in an arena for a very short run, not lingering in a crowd of people.”
Don’t panic yet. He surprised me with agreeing to the competition. He’ll come around.
But Dee Dee is right about the rest of it.
All those activities are critical, a once in a lifetime chance for my career.
and if I pulled out of the event entirely, I wouldn’t be in the running for any major sponsorship.
If I want a real chance at this, I need to be seen at those parties.
We need to be seen together, looking like we belong there.
I turn to face Diesel with my heart hammering against my ribs. “If I’m going to compete, then the meetings and socials matter for my sponsor opportunities.”
“I don’t care about your sponsors.”
Grrrr. “Your income doesn’t depend on it, mine does.”
Dee Dee clears her throat, and when I glance at her, the brightness has been replaced by wisdom and worry.
“You’ll be right there with her, Diesel.
Being her date is perfect cover. I know you’re very good at your job.
Your reputation precedes you. Spending a few hours at these events might save a pivotal moment in River’s career. ”
Diesel’s entire body stiffens. “Her life isn’t worth a career pivot.”
Christ. What do I say to that?
Dee Dee bows her head. “You’re right, Diesel.
I didn’t mean it like that. But I’ll remind you a lot can happen between now and this weekend.
You’ve got a couple of days. The threat could be gone.
I know Gray and your team are working round the clock.
So, let’s get you two ready, and if it doesn’t work out…
you can save the clothing for another occasion A special date night, maybe? ”
Dee Dee looks sheepish.
Wait, did she just play matchmaker?
The silence vibrates in the cavernous building. I shrug my shoulders, “She’s right. They could catch this person today.”
For a beat, I wonder if Diesel’s going to reverse his opinion on competing and going to the event all together. But he agrees.
“You’re right,” he sighs sharply. “Do it up, Dee Dee.”
Then Dee Dee claps her hands together and the warmth returns to her voice like she flipped a switch.
“So. Shall we get started? The Hearts on Horses mixer is Friday night and the Lasso Me Good formal on Saturday. Valentine’s themed for both, which means matching colors, complementary styles, the whole nine yards. ”
“He’s really not my date, we don’t have to coordinate...”
“I am.” His voice carries that tone that says the decision has already been made and arguing is just wasting oxygen. “You will not be leaving my side.”
She’s busy pulling out a burgundy shirt with an intricate pattern embroidered across the chest and shoulders. The pattern is hearts formed from black barbed wire.
“This will go under the black tuxedo, for the formal on Saturday,” she explains. “To match your burgundy rhinestone dress.”
He grunts. Unimpressed.
Dee Dee approaches him with the measuring tape, completely unbothered by his size or the intensity radiating off him like heat from a furnace. He holds his arms out and she wraps the tape around his chest with professional efficiency.
“Forty-eight inches.” She adjusts her reading glasses and makes an appreciative sound. “That’s impressive.”
“It’s functional.”
I bite down on the laugh threatening to escape, but Dee Dee catches my eye and grins.
“Try the pink first,” she says, holding it up to him. “I need to see how it fits through the shoulders before I make any adjustments.”
Diesel takes the shirt and stares at it for a long moment, then glances at me with resignation or what might be the early stages of murder.
Then he pulls off his current shirt right there in the middle of the warehouse, industrial lighting illuminating every cut of muscle, every scar, every inch of ink and skin.
Just like at the breakfast table this morning, I’m suddenly hungry in a way that has nothing to do with food.