Chapter 3
3
“ Y ou don’t have to walk me to work,” I say as we make the short walk to the diner.
“I do.” Nathan left his car, a dark gray Honda, in the parking lot and refused to let me leave without him.
I thought about running, but something about his dogged persistence made me think he wouldn’t hesitate to chase me down.
“You look thoughtful,” he says, shooting me a rapid glance.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Your sister?”
I don’t respond.
His stare is a little longer this time. “She was worried about you.”
My guilt burns so hot and bright, it damn near overwhelms me. “I’m doing this for her.”
But I should’ve told her what I was doing.
Martha never would’ve let me go off on my own. She’d want to make sure I was safe, even if it meant leaving her mate, Ty, behind. She tried to do it before, even hiding the fact Ty was her mate from me because she knew I wasn’t happy in Dawley.
She’s given so much of her time, energy, and happiness to keep me safe over the years. I refuse to let her give more. It’s time I looked after myself.
“I’m sure that she’d prefer to just have you.”
I spin to face Nathan, looking him right in the eye. “Someone nearly killed my sister trying to get to me. Then you turn up in Dawley, and no sooner do you arrive than someone is trying to kill you. It’s best you go on your way and leave me to go on my own, Blackshaw. You’d live a hell of a lot longer than if you stuck around.”
I walk away and I’m not even surprised when he closes the gap between us in two ground-eating steps. The joys of being over six feet tall. I wish I knew what that felt like.
“Who’s trying to kill you?” he asks.
“Didn’t Martha tell you?”
“A little. But I think I’d like to hear it from you.”
“It’s nothing you need to know.” I increase my pace.
He matches it.
Easily .
“If you’re in danger, I can protect you.”
“More like get yourself killed trying to—” I gasp when he grips my wrist and has me pressed up against a brick wall in under a second.
There’s not even a hint of the amiable, smiling shifter I nearly tripped over taking my trash out last night. “I can protect you.”
“Unnecessary.” I move to skirt around him. He steps into me, pinning me to the wall, and, randomly, reminding me of his determination to kiss me.
Not the time, Clara. Definitely not the place or the time to be thinking about that.
He must have the same thought for his eyes to flick to my mouth. “This kiss…”
“I am not kissing you, Nathan Blackshaw. No way, no how, not gonna happen in this century or the next. Move.”
His lips curve in a crooked smile, and I ask myself what the hell I’m doing not pushing him away.
“But I haven’t told you the details of this kiss,” he murmurs.
Details?
I shrug. “A kiss is just a kiss.”
“Not this one,” he says, stirring my curiosity.
If I don’t get my ass into gear in the next two minutes, I’m going to be late to my shift. I swear Nathan took an extended shower just to piss me off, knowing I wouldn’t walk into the bathroom while he was in there naked. Since my boss is giving me a place to sleep, losing my job will cost me a place to sleep.
I can’t let that happen.
But I am curious.
“What about it?”
“Still not interested?” He lifts his hand to my jaw and I lean my head against the wall before he can touch me. Smiling slightly, he drops his hand.
“Not a chance in hell.” He’s not moving, which means I have to move him, and I have a feeling the second I put my hands on Nathan Blackshaw, it’ll cause me problems I don’t need.
He raises a dark brow. “Not even a little?”
“Nope,” I lie.
“It would be a good one.” His eyes flick to my lips and they tingle in response to his heated stare.
“I doubt that very much, Blackshaw.”
“Then I guess the only way we’d know for sure is for this kiss to happen.”
“Which it won’t, so I guess I’ll never know.”
“And you’re good with that?”
“Perfectly.”
And yet, I do nothing to push him away.
“Sure about that?”
My eyes dart to his mouth. “Unless you were to tell me.”
He cocks his head. “Tell you what?”
“What makes this kiss of yours so special? Then I might know if you’re any good at all or you’re just talking out of your ass.”
“Well…” he drawls, his expression thoughtful. “I’d have to start slow. Ease you into it.”
I snort. “Everyone knows that.”
“I’d slide my palm around the nape of your neck,” he says. “Then I’d slant my head. But only a little. So when I run the tip of my tongue along the seam of your pretty lips, the angle would be just right.”
My heart trips. “Why would you need to do that?”
“So you’d know to invite me in, Clara Vincent. I’d need to know what you taste like.”
I press my back harder against the wall, balling my hands to keep them to myself. “You wouldn’t be missing much because I don’t taste like anything.”
He lifts a hand.
I brace myself to push him away. If he thinks this bit of flirtation is all it will take for me to follow him to Hardin, he has another thing coming.
His eyes sparkle in amusement as he rests his palm on the wall over my head. Not touching. But close. Dangerously close.
“See, I have in my mind that you’d taste of sweet heat and potent need, Clara Vincent. One taste and I’d growl and haul you against me.”
I lose my breath again. “ Haul me?”
Why does that sound like something I might want?
He nods. “Definitely. I’d want every part of you touching me when I deepened the kiss.”
I feign casualness. “You sound like you’ve given this kiss a great deal of thought.”
His mouth quirks into a sexy half-smile. “Only every minute of the day.”
I snort. “What happened to keeping me safe?”
“I can multitask.” He leans closer. “So while I’m giving you this kiss, I’d be running my hand over your?—”
Bang .
I whip my head toward the door, hating whoever that was for not waiting two blasted seconds until I found out where Nathan would be running his hand.
It’s O’Shane.
Cursing out your new boss who gave you a place to sleep would be a shitty thing to do. Especially when he’s looking at his wristwatch like you’re late.
So I swallow my curse and ignore his curious gaze bouncing between me and Nathan.
“Everything all right out here?” O’Shane asks.
My dark-haired and bearded boss is in a chef's white jacket and black jeans because he does most of the cooking. He has a short-order cook who comes in during the busy peak lunchtime rush since finding a full-time chef must be as hard as finding a waitress in Rosenwood.
I swear his eyes lit up when I asked when he was hiring, and he couldn’t do enough to help me when I lied about my boyfriend dumping me in this town and taking off.
Knowing I can’t stay makes me feel bad. He’s been nice, and it can’t be easy running a diner in a town where hiring staff is a challenge. It’s why I haven’t slacked off even once since I started working here.
Except now.
Because… well, Nathan Blackshaw knows how to distract a girl.
I slip around Nathan. “Peachy.”
“Hmm…”
I whip my head toward Nathan. He has his eyes firmly fixed on my ass. There’s no question what he meant when he drawled out peachy like that.
My cheeks burn.
I’d slap him if my boss wasn’t right there, but I say nothing and walk into work, skirting around O’Shane, who holds the door open for me. I’m ready to start my double shift, and I’m determined to work as hard as I did the day before.
Nathan follows me in, parks himself at one of my tables, and doesn’t move again.
I’m not working alone today.
Last night, as we were cleaning up, O’Shane said a local woman helps him out every now and again, so she’s working the tables on the left, while I’m serving the tables on the right.
Megan, a blonde woman in her late thirties, is friendly. She is also tired-looking. With four kids under ten, every day must be exhausting.
Whenever I pass Nathan as I top-up coffee mugs and take breakfast orders from bleary-eyed tourists and truckers, he’s peering out of the window, or he’s studying me. An hour later, and he still hasn’t ordered anything to eat, though we both skipped breakfast, so he must be starving. He just occasionally sips from the coffee I poured for him.
After a large group of college students leave me with a ten-dollar tip, I walk over to O’Shane who’s standing at the front counter during a quiet moment.
“Can I order some food for my friend?”
O’Shane shoots Nathan a rapid glance. “ Friend ?”
“Uh, yeah.” Ignoring the fact he saw Nathan pin me to the wall feet from the diner, I plunge my hand into my apron and pull out a fist full of dollar bills, offering it to him. “He’s not the boyfriend that dumped me here. I can pay.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Nathan’s back stiffens as he angles his head my way.
Please don’t let him have overheard my lies about boyfriends that don’t exist.
Lying to O’Shane and getting away with it is one thing. Lying to Nathan is proving to be another thing entirely.
O’Shane shakes his head. “Keep your money. You’ve earned it.”
My boss returns to the kitchen, and I don’t understand why until I hear the sizzle of bacon hitting the griddle, and I figure my boss is doing me another big favor.
I get back to serving customers and topping up coffee.
“ Clara !” O’Shane calls out as he puts an order on the front counter. “This one’s for your friend.”
Nathan’s gaze burns its way through my back as I pick up a large plate with a generous serving of eggs, pancakes, bacon, hash browns, and sausage. My stomach rumbles at those delicious scents as I carry it over to Nathan and set it down in front of him. “Here.”
Nathan frowns. “I didn’t order this.”
“You look like a stalker or a guy obsessed with all that sitting and staring. Eat something so cops don’t arrest you.” I nod at the basket on the table. “Silverware is in the basket.”
His smile is pleased. “You did this.”
I frown at him severely. “Don’t make it a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal.”
I’m walking away when Nathan catches my wrist and gently tugs me back. “It’s a big deal to me. Thanks.”
I’m weighing up my response when O’Shane calls out, “Take five minutes, Clara.”
He’s still leaning on the front counter.
“But I just started,” I say.
“It’s quiet. Megan has a handle on everything,” he says.
I look at Megan, wanting to be sure she’s okay with me taking a break so soon after I started my shift.
She flashes me a smile. “I’m good,” she assures me.
I’m starving, so I don’t complain too much, smiling gratefully at my boss as I slide into the leather booth opposite Nathan. “Okay. Thanks.”
Nathan releases my wrist and I blink in surprise when he gets to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be back,” he says as he walks to the counter.
I watch him curiously, trying to ignore my grumbling belly. I had a couple of pop tarts left over from my trip to the grocery store after work last night, but Nathan flashing me on his way to the bathroom distracted me so badly I forgot to grab them for breakfast this morning.
As I steal a couple of sips of coffee from Nathan’s mug, he’s at the counter speaking with my boss. His voice is too low to be overheard over the soft rock playing on the radio.
I’m even more confused when O’Shane passes Nathan an empty plate and a cup of coffee.
Did he see me stealing his coffee and decide he wanted a top up?
Nathan returns to the table and passes me the mug. “Here.”
I take it gratefully because I need it. It’s not even 11 yet and I have a long ass day on my feet ahead of me. “Because I drank some of yours?”
“Because you don’t have a drink.”
“And the plate?” I add creamer and sugar to my black coffee. Nathan drinks his black with an absurd amount of sugar. I need creamer to cut through the bitterness. Sugar is not enough.
Nathan splits the breakfast between the two plates. He pushes the fuller plate to my side of the table and hands me a fork. “Here. You skipped out on breakfast.”
I hesitate. “This feels suspiciously like a date, Blackshaw.”
“You’re reading too much into it,” he says with an innocence I don’t buy for a second.
“You don’t have to share your food with me.”
“I’m not.” I ignore the tingle of his hand on mine when he tucks the fork into my palm. “ I am sharing your breakfast.”
As I study him, his amiable expression doesn’t dim.
Shaking my head, I accept I’ve lost this battle. I’m starving and it would be stupid to refuse. “Thanks.”
We demolish the breakfast in minutes. Shifters have big appetites and neither of us ate this morning. I guess Nathan could’ve eaten last night, but given he’d parked himself outside my motel room, the chances of that are low.
By the time we’ve cleared our plates, the diner is filling up and the engines purring in the parking lot make it clear that we’re heading into the midday rush.
I move to get up.
Nathan’s hand circles my wrist.
“What?” I ask, when I take in his serious expression.
“Thank you for a delicious breakfast, Clara Vincent. It’s going down as my best ever,” he says so softly and genuinely I know he truly means it.
I hide my smile. “You’re just saying that to get me to go back to Hardin.”
He brushes a kiss across my knuckles and releases me. “I meant it.”
I think about that kiss for far longer than I should.
Throughout the busy lunch period as diners stop in to grab a meal before they continue on their journey, I think of that kiss.
As truckers stop in to fuel up on burgers and fries, I’m still thinking of Nathan’s kiss. No guy has ever kissed my knuckles before and I think I was missing out because it was surprisingly sweet.
I’m still thinking of how distracting it was, and how I wouldn’t have minded if it was on my lips instead of my knuckles when the front door swings open.
I glance at it, the way I have all day, and immediately spin around, my back to the door as my heart leaps up my throat when a handsome blond man in a button-down shirt steps in.
Adrian.
Shit, shit, shit. How the fuck could he be here?
There’s only one thing to do.
I walk away. Past the table of people calling out for me, and through the hatch into the kitchen.
I bypass O’Shane asking me what’s wrong and where I’m going as I dump my apron on a stainless steel counter and sprint out of the kitchen into the back alley.
No sooner have I cleared the alley than someone grabs my wrist, whirling me around.