Chapter 13
thirteen
The gruff concern in my tone surprises me. “Are your insides still... intact?”
Her eyes clear, focusing on me as she raises an eyebrow. “What exactly do you mean by my insides?”
The look she’s giving me as I run my hands all over her body, checking for injuries, would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the unexpected apprehension running through my veins.
“I don’t fucking know. Your spleen, I guess?”
She snorts. “My spleen is fine.”
“What about your head?”
She rolls her eyes as I run my hands through her hair to check for bumps.
“Listen, Smirky...”
The nickname makes me pause.
Fingers tangled gently in her hair, I tip her face up to check her pupils. “Smirky, huh?”
She shrugs.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
Satisfied she’s at least physically okay, she’s still a little disheveled, so I help her brush the dirt off her knees and straighten her dress.
Smoothing a hand over her hair, I say, “Look. Lemme buy you breakfast. Maybe if you get to know me a little, you might feel comfortable enough to tell me your name. Deal?”
She mulls over my offer for a moment. “Deal.”
Lacing my fingers with hers, I guide her down the street. She’s still trembling slightly, and I want to make sure she doesn’t bolt on me.
This time of year, the night air is getting cooler, but I barely notice. My focus is entirely on the woman beside me.
“Just a couple blocks,” I tell her, nodding toward the corner ahead. “Best breakfast ever, and I’m not just saying that because I’m friends with the owner.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “Breakfast at two a.m.?”
“Trust me, Pretty. You’ll thank me.”
As we round the corner an old train car comes into view. The sign hovering above it casts a warm, welcoming glow across the sidewalk, flashing the words: DINA’S DINER.
“Wait, is that an actual train?” She stops, staring at the converted dining car with wide eyes.
“Yep.” I can’t keep the pride out of my voice. This place has been my go-to stop after a night out any time I’m here. “Used to be part of the Northern Pacific line back in the day. Now it serves the best damn waffles in all of Portland.”
The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon hits as I hold the door open. “After you.”
Inside, it’s warm and cozy. Red vinyl booths line the windows, and a long counter with stools takes up the center. The walls are decorated with vintage train memorabilia and photos of Portland from decades past.
“Brex!” A middle-aged woman with silver-streaked hair calls out from behind the counter. “Haven’t seen you in a while!”
“Hey, Dina. Been busy with work.” I guide us to my favorite booth in the back corner.
The owner laughs, shaking her head as she hands us menus. “You two want coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Pretty says. Her voice sounds steadier now.
“Coming right up. The usual for you, Brex?”
“You know it.”
“So you come here often enough to have a ‘usual’?”
“Been coming here for a few years.” I lean back in the booth.
“What brings you to town now?” she asks, keeping her eyes on the menu.
I contemplate her question, not sure if it’s a good idea to offer up too many details. Not yet, at least.
“Meeting up with my brothers. We all get together every couple of months or so. Hang out and catch up.”
She looks up from her menu. “How many?”
“Three. All older. They’re a pain in my ass, but I’d do anything for them.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. “What about you? Any family?”
Something shifts in her expression—a flicker of pain before she masks it. “Just me.”
“Come on, Pretty. You gotta give me something.”
Dina returns with our coffee, setting down two steaming mugs. “You two ready to order?”
“Whatever she wants. It’s on me.”
I glance across the table. Pretty’s mouth is parted like she’s ready to protest, and it makes my dick twitch.
When I hike an eyebrow, daring her to argue, she smiles and shakes her head. “I’ll have the French toast with a side of fruit.”
“Good choice,” Dina says with a wink before heading back to the kitchen.
“So,” I continue when we’re alone again. “Siblings? Parents?”
Wrapping her hands around her mug, she frowns into the dark liquid. “My parents are... not really in the picture anymore.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be.” Her voice is clipped. “I’m much better for it.”
“Any brother’s or sister’s?”
When she hesitates, I can practically feel the tension, see the wheels turning as she contemplates her next words. “I had a sister. She died when we were kids.”
The way she says it makes me want to dig deeper, but the fire in her eyes warns me off. So I change the subject. “Do you live around here?”
“Not exactly.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m just here for the weekend. Training for my new job.”
“What kind of training?”
She hesitates. “Last round of my firefighter certification. I’m an EMT.”
The fact that her job coincides so closely with mine, makes my heart lurch.
The food arrives, and our conversation lulls as we both dig in.
After a few minutes, she finally speaks up. “Tell me about your brother’s.”
Smile tugging at my lips, I lean back in the booth. “For starters, we grew up on a ranch in a little town called Chaos. Ever heard of it?”
She shakes her head, taking another bite of her French toast.
“Not surprised. It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of place. Population’s maybe around twelve hundred on a good day.” I take a sip of my coffee. “My family’s been there for generations. We’ve got cattle, horses, a few crops. The usual.”
I take a sip of my coffee.
“My brother, Dex, is an MMA fighter. Fucker’s built like a tank. He’s got a beard and this permanent scowl. You know, the kind that makes people hurry and cross the street when they see him coming their way?”
Pink lips quirk up at the corner. “Sounds charming.”
“Oh, he’s a fucking delight.” I laugh. “But he’s also the most loyal person I’ve ever known. Would literally take a bullet for any of us without blinking.”
Her eyes soften. “That’s... really nice, actually.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell him I said that. He’d kick my ass for being sentimental.”
I push my plate away.
“Rune is the second oldest. He’s actually a bodyguard for hire. Travels all over the world protecting rich celebrities. The guy’s a walking weapon. I swear he knows at least eight different types of martial arts and can take down a man twice his size without breaking a sweat.”
Her eyes widen slightly as she takes another sip of her coffee.
“The oldest, Ace, is a former bull rider turned high-stakes poker player. He’s been running the ranch part-time since our dad died when I was twelve. Stepped up without a single complaint. Never once made us feel like we were a burden.”
“Wow. And what about you?”
“Helicopter pilot. Mostly work fires and rescues.”
The look on her face makes me grin as I fold my arms leaning them against the table. “So… now will you tell me your name?”
Her sexy lips twitch. “Reyna.”
“Hello, Reyna.”
Reyna’s eyes lock with mine. “Hi.”
For some reason, I can’t seem to stop the next words that fly out of my mouth.