“No.” Garrett angled his body just enough to stop her. He was at least a foot taller and a hundred or two pounds heavier than she was, basically making him a solid wall. “How do you know me?” There were many bounties on his head, but there was no way the kitten was a bounty hunter. He could read people well enough to know that.
She glanced down at his monstrous boots and took a deep breath before looking up and meeting his gaze. “I don’t know you.” Then she smiled, and sure as shit, it was like the sun had appeared over the mountains after the rainy season. “That was weird, and I apologize. There’s no way I could know you, correct?”
“Right.” He grasped her arm, careful not to bruise her. “You’re sitting with us.”
“No, I—”
He nudged her into the booth, putting his body between her and the rest of the bikers in the place.
It was time for some answers.
* * * *
Well, she’d just gone and done it now, hadn’t she? Dessie settled into the booth, her entire right side warmed by the man sitting next to her. Make that the formidable block of muscle sitting next to her. Would it be weird if she asked him to remove the tinted glasses covering his eyes? “You’re the highwayman a’comin,” she whispered.
“I like poetry as well.” Why did that sound like a threat from him? How could he be real? He couldn’t be. It wasn’t reallyhim.
When he lifted one finger, a waitress came out of nowhere so fast her thighs hit the table. “Yes?” she asked breathlessly, her ample breasts straining against her black tank top.
He didn’t seem to notice but instead turned his head slightly to Dessie. “Order.”
She gulped. Order? She didn’t have enough money for lunch as well as a ride home. “I’m, um, I’m not hungry.” Her stomach rumbled, but quietly enough she was sure nobody heard it.
Now he turned his head all the way toward her, and even through those glasses, she could feel his intent. His hair was dark, with some natural highlights that showed he spent time in the sun, and his facial features were rock-solid angles that tempted a girl to run her fingers across the masculine bone structure. “Don’t lie to me again.” Her body wanted to back away from him, but she was already pressed against the windowsill and wall. “Order, or I’ll do it for you.”
Maybe she could hitchhike back to the motel or just leave her meager possessions there. She had everything she needed in her overlarge bag. “I’ll have a cheeseburger, no onions or pickles. Thank you.” It was a diner, and she’d learned that they usually had burgers, so it was a safe bet. Besides, she loved cheeseburgers. They were a warm new comfort that probably would go straight to her thighs, but who cared?
“Drink?” His words were clipped. Her unfortunate choice of words earlier had apparently angered him. Or, at the very least, irritated him. She had a feeling that he was only allowing her to see his emotions because he didn’t care if she knew he was not happy.
“What’s your name?” The question popped out of her before she could stop it.
He didn’t so much as twitch, instead keeping her captive with his gaze. If anything, more tension rolled off him. “Order. A. Drink.”
Her knees trembled, and her breath quickened. Once again her body reacted without conscious thought. These feelings were new and all for him. She didn’t appreciate the sensations at the moment. She shifted her weight, trying to find a comfortable position. “You’re very bossy.” While she’d tried soda and didn’t much like it, water wasn’t appealing to her in this moment.
Apparently, his patience had ended. “Bring another mug. She’ll have beer.”
The waitress sprinted away. Probably so she could return quickly.
At least if they poured from their pitcher, she wouldn’t be charged for the drink. “That would be lovely,” Dessie said primly to nobody in particular.
His grin was slow and more devastating than a train crash.
The smile warmed her more, and she was grateful he didn’t look so scary any longer. If being polite charmed him, she’d draw on every etiquette lesson she’d ever learned.
She finally broke eye contact and looked across the booth. Another overlarge man sat across the worn wooden table, and he also wore a leather jacket. His hair was black, his eyes green, and his expression tense. Next to him sat a truly beautiful woman with tawny skin, rope-twisted black hair, and sparkling dark eyes. She had curves Dessie would love to possess. “Hi,” Dessie said, focusing on the woman, sensing she was the safest person in the booth, if not the entire diner.
“Hi.” The woman tilted her head, curiosity in her gaze. “What’s your name?”
“Dessie. Yours?”
The woman glanced at the man next to her, and he barely nodded. “I’m Honor, and this is Sam.” Had she just asked permission to give their names?
Dessie frowned. These people were obviously on guard, and her touching the guy next to her as if they were old friends was a mystery they apparently didn’t like. Why would they?
A shuffling sound alerted her, and she looked around to see several of the patrons rearranging themselves in this half of the diner. She liked patterns, and she quickly discerned this one. The biggest and meanest-looking of the leather-clad men were now all seated closer to them. Surrounding them in booths and the closest tables—forming a wall of protection around them. How intriguing.
She noted on the back of their jackets the outline of a large grizzly bear, sharp teeth flashing beneath the word grizzlies. “Why do you all have matching jackets?”
