Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

“How about you? Busy day?”

He laughed—not a particularly happy sound—and steered through the narrow downtown streets toward DeShay’s Diner. “Yeah, right. Nonstop action. I barely had time to breathe.”

“Hmm. My friend Ginny called me earlier today and told me something about an emergency rescue this morning. I heard you came roaring onto the scene, sirens blaring, and saved the day.”

A quick glance in her direction confirmed his suspicion. She was biting her lip to hold back laughter. He felt an answering grin tug at the corners of his mouth. “Ms. Van Hendler called in a panic, screaming about her ‘baby’ being stuck on the roof. Where I come from, you take a call like that very seriously. I rushed to the scene. Hell yes, I had the siren blaring.”

She laughed. Not a chuckle or a giggle, but an uncontrolled laugh that built and built until she had to wipe away the tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. Finally, she got a hold of herself, enough to say, “I can’t believe Cooper and Rusty didn’t speak up.”

Had the tables been turned, he probably wouldn’t have either, but he shot back with, “Cooper and Rusty are assholes.”

That pitched her into another fit of hilarity. He waited, patiently, until her laughter subsided.

“So…” She sniffed, giggled, and tried again. “Whoo, sorry. So, did you rescue Ms. V’s baby?”

“Yes, I did rescue her ugly, smelly, foul-tempered baby,” he replied. “Don’t ask me why because that cat is a damn menace.” He pulled into a curbside spot in front of DeShay’s accompanied by a soundtrack of her giggles.

He cut the engine, sat back, and enjoyed the sight of her laughing.

“My hero,” she said, when she caught him watching. Her eyes stilled brimmed with amusement. “What an ordeal. You deserve a medal.”

“No shit. The mangy thing ripped me to shreds.” He showed her his wrist, where several thin red scratches crisscrossed his skin. “That’s the thanks I got for my trouble.”

“Aww. Let me kiss it better.” She cupped his wrist in her hand and gently brushed her lips over the scratches.

The gesture was a joke. The effect? Not so much. Every other part of his body woke and prepared for a turn under her lips. She must have sensed his nerve endings snapping to attention, because she raised her head and, for one silent beat, simply stared into his eyes. Then she drew in a deep breath and said, “We could skip dinner.”

Tempting, but no. He shook his head. “You’re starving, remember?”

“I have food at home. I could put together a salad or something…after.”

“You’re not craving a salad, you’re craving chicken-fried chicken. And I intend to satisfy every craving tonight. Starting with dinner.” With that, he opened his door and exited the truck before she could change his mind. By the time he came around to her side, she had the door open and those fantasy-provoking sandals perched on the step. They’d be perched on his shoulders before the night ended, if he had his way.

DeShay’s Diner boasted a brisk Friday evening business. Clientele ran the gamut. A cursory sweep of the white-tiled, red-upholstered interior revealed several families, a couple groups of high-school kids, a cluster of old guy “regulars” in a back booth, and more than a few couples.

The hostess, a young woman wearing black eyeliner and a plenitude of thick silver jewelry, including an eyebrow ring and tragus studs, greeted Melody with a squeal and a hug before showing them to a window booth and handing them menus. Her perky, “Y’all have a good dinner,” seemed hugely at odds with the Gothic vampire look she took such pains to present.

“Another relative? Because I’ve got to say, I don’t see the resemblance.”

“I used to babysit her when I was a teenager.” Her sigh had a where-does-the-time-go quality. “Believe it or not, as a little girl she looked just like Tinker Bell. I’d dress her up, spray her hair out to beauty pageant proportions, and we’d pretend to be princesses.”

“After seeing your nieces tonight, I believe it.”

“Yeah, in hindsight, it’s entirely possible I went a bit overboard.”

Her reminiscences put an uncomfortable thought in his head. “You know every single person in this diner, don’t you, Bluelick?”

The question seemed to take her by surprise. She blinked, then straightened and looked around the room. “Yes, pretty much—at least by sight if not by name. Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s just unusual, to me. You can go an entire day without seeing a stranger. Most people don’t live in such a small world.”

Her spine went a notch straighter. “And wouldn’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I heard you think it.”

True, but admitting the fact served no useful purpose. Thankfully, a slim, green-eyed redhead approached the table right then, followed by a taller woman who might have been blond—he really couldn’t say because he couldn’t see past the message printed in big neon letters across the front of her tank top. Okay, technically there was nothing printed on her tank top, but it still managed to scream, HEY WORLD, THESE ARE MY TITS with all the subtlety of a flashing billboard.