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?
