Desolation Road (Torpedo Ink 4)

He was uneasy without his fellow Torpedo Ink members close by, and even more so now that he could see just how nervous she was. They had survived their childhood—and then later, as teens and adults—by sticking together. The rule had always been one or two stuck close to a third. Sometimes they were unseen, up on a rooftop with a rifle; sometimes they were in the shadows, but there was always someone close to protect one another.

Absinthe knew if the pull toward the librarian hadn’t been so strong, he never would have continued to come without at least one of the others. He wanted them close. Eventually, he would have to ask them to ride with him, but there would be so many questions and he wanted this time with her to be real. He wanted to unravel the mystery of Scarlet Foley alone. If he enlisted the aid of his club, Code would be involved, and her life would instantly be an open book. No one escaped Code’s ability to uncover their past with his genius computer skills. There was something to be said for the old-fashioned way of conversation and courtship.

He drummed his fingers on the table, reminiscent of Czar, their Torpedo Ink president. When Czar was thinking, he often kept time with his fingers. Absinthe found himself with the same habit and he’d never bothered to try to break it. Twice, there in the library, his little redhead had sent him a small frown. Now he often drummed his fingers on the table just to see that frown because he found it provocative. Sensual. Hell, everything she did was sensual.

He waited for her to turn the lights off before he got up and made his way down the aisle between the tall stacks to her. She knocked her purse off the desk and then when she picked it up, she dropped it again. Absinthe recovered it and handed it to her. That was absolutely, entirely unlike her, especially the fact that she hadn’t caught it before it hit the floor. He’d seen her catch dozens of books and other objects over the last six weeks even when others had dropped them.

Scarlet took the purse with a rueful expression. “I’m a little nervous,” she confessed, not looking at him. “I don’t go out very often.”

He’d already guessed that. He also was very sure she was afraid of someone. “Does your family live here?”

He held the door open for her. He wasn’t used to making conversation with an ordinary citizen, and certainly not one that made his cock feel so diamond hard he was afraid he might not be able to walk. Wasn’t that a perfectly ordinary question? One any man might ask a woman on a first date? Date. Hell. He didn’t date. He’d never been on a date in his life.

She had dropped back, not walking with him, and he just stood there, waiting for her to exit. Scarlet’s gaze slid up and down the street before she reluctantly stepped outside and allowed him to close the door behind her, take the keys from her hand and lock it and then hand them back to her.

“No, but my grandmother did. I used to visit her here. I had a lot of good memories, so I came back and was able to get the job at the library. What about you?”

He shook his head. “No, but now I live in Caspar, which isn’t all that far from here.” It was by some people’s standards, but he found it peaceful riding his motorcycle, and the roads were perfect for cruising between the coast and inland, so distances didn’t matter to him.

Her face lit up. “I’ve been to Caspar. It’s on the coast, right? I love it there. The sea is always changing. One day it will be quiet and calm, and the next, it’s wild and crazy. You’re lucky to live there, although I imagine there aren’t very many jobs available.”

Was there a wistful note in her voice? He hoped so. He needed the stars to align and let him have this miracle of a gift. He needed her in his life. He just had to find a way to make it happen and have it be real. He was most afraid of that—needing her too much and creating a false relationship.

He opened the door to the restaurant for her, scanning the room quickly for potential trouble before allowing her to do the same thing while he turned back toward the street and gave that another quick once-over. Certain no one was paying attention to either of them, he closed the door and followed his librarian’s amazing ass. She was in a black skirt with small white polka dots scattered over it. The material clung to her curves. He appreciated that particular skirt very much.