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Not here.

Not about to sit down from the woman I was fucking for a few months.

But I need to know.

As I climb off my bike, I turn to Jumper. “I don’t think you should be at the table with me. We don’t want her to feel ambushed.”

“I agree,” he says with a nod. “But I don’t think I should be waiting out here when she shows up either.”

I mull over his words as I look into the diner and nod. “Okay, let’s play it like you finally talked me into meeting up with her and have you sitting at another table.”

He nods and we head inside, requesting two separate tables. I slide into a booth right next to the window and Jumper is at the little breakfast bar just inside the door. As my gaze bounces between the parking lot and the door, I drum my fingers on the table.

Come on.

Just fucking get here.

Lennon needs me and I don’t have the fucking patience for this.

Leigh-Ann’s red Mazda pulls into the parking lot and I release a breath, putting my arm up on the back of the booth and leaning back, trying like hell to look relaxed when I am anything but. My knee bounces underneath the table and my fingers drum along the top of the booth.

Let’s go.

She climbs out of the car, her brown hair down and messy like she rushed over here.

Yeah, I bet she fucking did.

As she walks toward the front door of the diner, there is a slight limp in her steps and I sit up a little straighter as my eyes narrow and my brow arches.

I just kicked at them

I think I hit their knee.

Lennon’s words slam into my brain.

Motherfucker.

I glance over at Jumper and he nods once in acknowledgement before turning forward, away from the door.

He saw it too.

It won’t fucking prove anything in a court of law but I’m more convinced than ever.

The bell above the door jingles and I flick my eyes there as Leigh-Ann walks in. She offers me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes then she scans the dining room. As soon as she sees Jumper sitting at the bar, her expression brightens considerably.

Good.

I want her to think he talked me into this.

“Rooster,” she breathes as she nears the table. I nod at her in greeting before drawing my brows together as I look at her knee.

“Why are you limping?”

She lets out a nervous laugh as she slips into the seat across from me as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Oh, God. I decided to take up running and I tripped. So clumsy.”

That’s a lie.

Her tell is so fucking obvious.