Beside me, in the cup holder, my phone rang. I picked it up, reading the screen curiously. This was a new phone, a new number. I’d only given it to one person and that was— “Shiloh! What are you doing up so late? It’s past midnight.”
My friend’s voice was husky with the late hour. “You sent me a text saying you’d be home by eight and you’re not here yet! What is going on? I’m worried.”
“Plane was late. I’m almost there…maybe twenty minutes out.” The low rumble of a man’s voice sounded, and Shiloh said something in return, muffling the phone with her hand. “Is Gunner still okay with me staying the night?”
“Cotton, we want you to stay as long as you want. There’s plenty of room and I’ve missed you, damnit.”
“I’m sure my mother will throw a fit if I don’t at least make an appearance, but I’m sure I’ll take you up on that.” I flipped my hazards to a left-hand blinker even though the road was dead and shifted into drive. I was just pulling out from the shoulder when a bike roared past, rocking the car with its backdraft. “Shit!” I stomped the brake flat and sat back in my seat, my hand over my galloping heart. “Fucking idiot!”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I watched the taillight disappear around a bend in the road and pulled back onto the highway. “Just an idiot on a motorcycle.”
“Huh. Okay. Well, talk to me while you’re driving, because this party is pooped and I’m not going to have the energy when you get here. What’s the plan? You said you would only be here a week?”
“I’m supposed to be in D.C. for the tech writer position by the beginning of April, so I have a little time. If I’m going to take the job, I’d like to be there a couple of weeks before my start date. I want to settle in first, find the best Starbucks, you know. And as much as I love them, I cannot spend any more time than absolutely necessary with my parents.”
“I understand that. But why do you say if you take the job? Are you undecided?”
“I haven’t made my mind up yet.” I didn’t go into detail and she continued.
“Oh. But regardless, you’re out of the Army, right?”
“I’m technically in the reserves, so not completely out of it, but for all intents and purposes a civilian.”
“I’m so excited. Even if you will still be hours away, it’s not Texas. I am fully planning on camping out in your apartment or wherever you settle.”
“For now, it’ll be a long-term residential hotel. This job comes with the potential for remote work, so I fully plan on trying to grab that and maybe come back here.” I paused, concentrating on the liquid spitting against the windshield. “Look at that, it’s snowing.”
“It does that a lot here.” Shiloh’s tone was wry. “Mountains. Elevation. Winter.”
“You’re such a joker.”
“All right, so where are you now?”
I laughed, thankful Shiloh was filling my ears with her light chatter. It kept me from thinking too hard on other things, things out of my control. “I’m just about to drive past Karla’s, you loon.”
“Stop! Get me a donut?”
“Are you kidding me?” Despite my question, I obligingly pulled into the Karla’s Kuppa parking lot. We had spent untold hours in this place when in high school, testing every variety of donut and flirting with whichever guy happened to be working Friday night. They stayed open until one in the morning on the weekends, providing sweets and coffee to all of us idiot kids out getting plastered and high.
“You know I never kid about donuts. Get me a Boston cream? I’ve been yearning for one all day.”
“What about Gunner?”
“Whatever. He’s not picky.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few, chica.”
Disconnecting, I climbed out of the rental and glanced around the lot before I walked into Karla’s. A motorcycle was parked in a space at the end of the row. The same one that had blown by me a hundred miles an hour?
There was no line this late at night, just a single customer standing at the counter. I stepped behind him and studied his form, tall and intimidating in a pair of dark jeans and a black leather jacket. Because of course if you rode a motorcycle, you wore leather. He had long, reddish-brown hair pulled back in a tangled man bun high on his head. I tried to find effeminacy in the bun, but his body was so solid in front of me, so well-proportioned, I couldn’t. Even from the back, he was masculinity defined.
The cashier passed a cup of steaming liquid to him and as he turned, I caught a whiff of freshly brewed coffee. He paused to keep from walking into me and I side-stepped, my regard lifting from the cup, up, up along the expanse of chest clad in a soft-looking thermal, to finally meet his eyes.
They rested curiously on me, the deep liquid color of whiskey. His jaw was covered in a scruff that I kind of liked, as used to clean-shaven men as I was. He dipped his chin in a slow nod. “Evening.” His voice was deep and strangely musical, with a lilting accent that made me want to sit down and listen to him talk. He could talk about anything, I decided. He could read the phone book and I’d listen, enthralled.
One corner of his mouth crooked up as I stared, revealing a disarming divot in one cheek.
I’d always been a sucker for dimples.
I could feel my body responding to his nearness, my stomach tightening, my chest flushing with heat. But he was too close, and in spite of his bedroom eyes and sexy voice, my spine stiffened. He was near enough I could smell his scent, cold and clean despite a faint tang of exhaust. I took another step to the side, giving him a curt nod in return, and decided not to mention the incident on the bike. It was too late. I was tired. And he was too big.
Stepping around him to the counter, I started to place my order, ignoring the rush of air that signaled his departure.
