Briar reaches out to grab my arm. “Don’t. Let me handle it.”
I grit my teeth, but back down, giving her a reluctant nod. I wait for her to step out of the car, but she doesn’t move to grab the door handle. Instead, she leans forward, brushing a tiny kiss to my cheek. My heart stutters in my chest. I feel blood rushing through my body.
“Thank you,” she whispers, nudging her nose against mine.
“For what?” I croak.
“For being you.” I stare at her. She shrugs. “If you were Glen, you would’ve argued with me. If you were Matt, you would’ve ignored me. But you just—trust that I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can, sweetheart.”
She gives me another very gentle kiss, then pulls back, grabbing my hand. “Me, too.”
We both slide out of the car. Instantly, the photographers swarm around us, snapping shots and shouting at her.
“How are you feeling, Briar?”
“Will you make a statement about what happened last night? Were you injured in the bombing?”
“Is your stalker dead, Miss Saint?”
She flinches at that last one. I wrap my arm around her, tugging her into my side as I steer her through the crowd and across the road towards Cricket’s Café. My head is spinning. Holding her so close to me is jumbling up my thoughts. Why did she kiss me? What is she thinking?
I shake my head hard. I need to pull myself together. It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. A kiss on the cheek is hardly the same as her confessing herloveto me. Maybe she still has a casual interest in me. Maybe she wants to keep me around because she enjoys foursomes. If that’s the case, I have to get out of here ASAP. I’d rather be alone than be her last resort.
Briar reaches for my hand, and I gently pull it away, scanning the throng of paparazzi. She glances up at me. “Are you okay?” She asks slowly.
I nod, leading her onto the pavement and towards the diner. A bell over the glass door jangles as we step inside. It’s an adorable place: black-and-white checked tiles on the floors, vintage photos on the walls, worn red leather booths. Dolly Parton is crackling quietly from a radio in the kitchen, and the whole place smells of cooking waffles.
There’s a burly man sitting at a table by the door, swilling a coffee. He gives me a wolfish grin. “Li.”
“Cricket,” I greet. “How’s business?”
He shrugs. “We get by.” His eyes flick to Briar. He obviously recognises her, but he doesn’t mention it. “Mornin’, darlin’. You Li’s new client?”
She smiles and nods. I jerk my head at the windows. “Keep the scum out, will you? She’s attracted a lot of attention.”
Cricket’s grin just gets wider. “Gladly.”
“You know each other?” Briar asks as I lead her inside.
“We trained together for a while. He’s ex-special forces.”
“And he retired and—”
“Bought a diner, yes. A lot of vets hang out here.”
She smiles. “That’s cute.”
Julie is sitting, predictably, in a booth by the window, where the photographers can see right through to her. She stands up and gives Briar an air-hug as we come over. “This place is disgusting,” she announces.
“I think it’s perfect,” Briar says quietly.
I scan the room, then go to take a nearby table, but Briar catches my hand, tugging me close. “No, sit with us.”
“I need to sit here,” I nod to the table by the kitchen, “so I can see the full room.”
“We’ll sit there too, then.”
