Addicted to You (One Night of Passion 1)

“Yeah,” Errol repeated. When he wasn’t talking about airplanes or his dad, Errol was pretty laconic, but not in a dull way. In fact, his placidity and comfort with himself, no matter where he was, was something Katie had begun to admire about Errol. If only she could be so comfortable in her own skin.

She parked her Maserati across the street from the Legion Diner. In the distance, she saw De

rek Legion and a couple of his friends crossing the street. Their adolescent laughter and deep voices bounced off the brick walls of a desolate Main Street. Katie waved. Derek returned her wave, but halfheartedly. He didn’t look too happy for some reason.

As she and Errol crossed the street, a sarcastic voice started cracking off in her head. Coward. You’re just going to the diner in order to avoid Rill for another hour. Did you come here to help him, or to make an art out of avoiding him? You’re scared to face him.

And why shouldn’t she be humiliated to look him in the eye? What in God’s name had possessed her to get down on her knees like that when she had guessed what he’d been doing in that pantry. There weren’t many men who would have refused such a baldfaced offer in the midst of a vulnerable moment.

She’d taken advantage of him. That was what she’d done.

“Hey, boy,” Katie crooned to the mournful-looking hound dog that sat outside the diner door. He looked hopeful when Katie leaned down and put out a hand to pet him. She halted abruptly when Errol uttered one word.

“Fleas.”

They entered, and Katie immediately saw Rill. She paused in surprise. He sat on a chair in the middle of the diner’s open floor. A white sheet had been placed beneath his chair and clippings of dark brown hair lay on top of it. Sherona Legion froze in the process of making a snip with some scissors, Rill’s hair between her forefinger and second finger. Her legs straddled one of Rill’s long, bent legs.

Her huge breasts were just an inch away from Rill’s face.

The sound of bells jangling as the door shut brought Katie out of her shock.

“What are you doing?” Katie asked incredulously.

Snip, snip, went Sherona’s scissors. “Giving a haircut,” she stated blandly.

Rill still hadn’t turned his head to look at her as Sherona continued to trim his hair. Katie glanced from the whiteboard menu above the grill and back to Sherona and Rill. The Cut $6.00 had meant a haircut?

“You can’t do that,” Katie exclaimed. “That’s . . . that’s unsanitary!”

“Katie,” Rill growled menacingly. He gave her a sideways glare without turning his head. Her humiliation mounted at his tone. He’d sounded like an older brother, exasperated by the antics of his annoying little sister in front of a girlfriend. What was more, she’d come to learn recently that his accent got stronger not only when he was drinking, but also when he was angry.

Rill’s Irishness was largely in evidence at the moment.

“I clean up every single hair,” Sherona said. “My place always passes inspections with high marks for cleanliness.”

“Katie’s going to buy me a hamburger to take home, Sherona,” Errol said, all the tension in the air and visual daggers being hurled around utterly lost on him.

“Just give me a few seconds, and I’ll get you two set up,” Sherona said. She lifted one long leg and swung it over Rill’s knee. When she took a step and straddled his other knee, practically putting Rill’s eye out with a nipple, Katie thought she’d seen enough.

“Come on, Errol. We’ll get dinner somewhere else.”

“Ain’t nowhere else to go but the diner,” Errol said matter-of-factly. He set his crutches against the counter and sat on a stool. He removed a model of a B-52 bomber from his pocket, examining it closely while Katie continued to stare at Sherona shoving her breasts in Rill’s face. Her blood pressure must have shot up because her heart began to pound uncomfortably loud in her ears.

In a bid for self-preservation, she tossed her red Chanel cocoon bag on a barstool and sat down next to Errol, blocking the incendiary view from her eyes.

“What are you getting?” she asked Errol.

“A hamburger. That’s what you said.”

“You don’t have to get a hamburger, Errol. That was just an example. You can get whatever you want.” Just not the haircut, Katie thought irritably as she examined the menu. Whoever heard of doing haircuts inside of a diner? Vulture’s Canyon was a loony bin without walls. She noticed Errol looking at her, clearly confused by her statement. She sighed.

“Yeah, a hamburger sounds good,” she agreed.

“Can we get a hamburger patty for Barnyard?”

“Bernard?”

“No,” Errol corrected. “Barnyard. The dog.”