I turn my cell toward the car restoration specialist, who is openly grinning at me, and point at the photo of the car in question, with the stripe and cool color.
“You can’t tell me that doesn’t look awesome in purple,” I declare, wiggling my cell at him.
Baxter nods as Caiden huffs a laugh beside me, and Bax reaches for my phone to have a better look at the car I’ve pulled up in my images. “You might be right. I do like the Black Cherry, but the purple works really well. I’ll let my client know what you think.”
“You can totally name-drop me, I won’t even be mad,” I joke, my stomach swooping with the flutter of a fresh wave of butterflies that swarm my belly when Bax laughs and hands my phone back.
Clearing my throat as I rub a hand over my wayward stomach and will my heart rate to calm the hell down, I let my gaze drift toward Rayne and ask, “How about you? Have a good start to your day?”
Rayne pauses his pasta eating to look up at me, his inky black hair falling across his forehead while those piercing blue eyes send my pulse into another tizzy, and I stuff a slice of garlicbread in my mouth to distract myself. Rayne’s lips twitch, but he shrugs in answer. “Only had one client today, but it was a four-hour job with another four hours to go after lunch.”
I perk up at that, because I remember being told Rayne tattoos the stars. “Anyone I might know?”
Rayne’s lips twitch again, a small flash of those pearly white teeth that teases at the pretty smile I know he possesses, and he says, “I dunno. Know a guy called Gideon Penn?”
My mouth falls open, because I certainly do know that handsome bastard, and so does Zelda. Hell, those two have a history I’m not sure I’m even allowed to talk about, so I do my bestie duties and nod politely. “Sure do. The lead singer in Neon Graves, right?”
Looking a little impressed, he nods. “That’s him, yeah. How do you know Gideon?”
“Neon Graves has held a place in my playlist for the better half of eight years, since those losers formed their band and made it big. Zelda, my bestie, and I went to all of their gigs when they first started touring,” I explain, keeping the relationship between Zee and Gee out of it. They don’t need to know that train wreck. “What did he get done this time? And where the hell did you find the space? Man is covered from head to toe in ink already.”
“Why do you know that about a man?” Caid grumbles under his breath, but not quietly enough that I miss it.
I go to look over at him, but Rayne finally cracks a smirk. “Trust me, there’s space for more.”
I pull a face. “I don’t want to-”
“Maddie, duck,” Ryan suddenly blurts, interrupting me so quickly that pure instinct has me sliding down in my chair, my body resembling a stream of water as I glide right out of my chair and under the table.
“What? What is it? Is it the fucking Autobots? I knew it would happen when I was eating, damn it,” I whisper-yell, dragging my chair closer to me to better hide myself from the sentient robots I truly believe are a threat to humanity. One of these days, I’ll get my chance to say I told you so to everyone who mocked my fear of Cybertron and its occupants. Today might be that day, Ryan’s answer pending.
Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait very long, leaning back in his chair to discreetly whisper back, “I think I can see your ex walking into the restaurant.”
“Oh fuck, that’s worse than the robots,” I curse, adjusting myself until I’m leaning against Ryan and Baxter’s knees, the latter sticking his hand beneath the table and directing me farther beneath it.
Feeling like an idiot, but more than willing to suffer such indignities if it means escaping an encounter with that dick for brains who simply won’t leave me alone, I shuffle across the floor on my hands and knees, slow to remember that I’ve abandoned my purse and food.
I fucking hate Toby Moore, goddamn it all.
At least I have my cell phone still on me. Silver linings, right? Maybe I’ll text Ryan and ask him to get my food boxed up so I can grab it when I get home. For now, however, I’m stuck beneath the table, now using the guys’ legs as crutches that are holding me upright and hoping my presence goes unnoticed.
Life has never been that kind, and the universe proves once again what a thundering moose knuckle it is when I hear the devil grumble, “Oh. It’s you. Is Madison here? Her location pings here, but I can’t find her. We need to talk.”
Oh, this motherfucker.
Chapter Nineteen
Baxter
I feel Maddie’s entire body freeze against my legs as soon as the dickhead speaks, the words coming out of his mouth enough to piss me all the way off.
“Her location pings here, but I can’t find her. We need to talk,” the wannabe model grouches, looking like he’s sucked a lemon before growing some hefty balls and coming over to our table.
I’m no more impressed to see him than he is to see us, but knowing the asshole is actively tracking Maddie? Oh, hell no. Not on my watch. Because that’s a whole new level of messed up I’m not willing to fuck around with.
With an eerie calm that hides the early stages of an explosion I can feel in my chest, I ask, “Did you just basically say you’re tracking Maddie? That’s considered stalking where I’m from, so be careful how you answer that.”
Toby looks at me as though I’m a bag of cheese past its expiration date, and I glare daggers at him, raising a challenging eyebrow that does its job in intimidating him enough that he lowers his cell slightly and takes a very clear step back from our table he had the nerve to approach. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
