Not trusting myself, or the wolf, to say anything that didn’t include the words “fuck me” and “now,” I just nodded and hummed in agreement.
Donning my jacket and scarf, I buried my nose in the soft folds that smelled of wood smoke and home. Tugging the wooly hat on, pulling it down over my ears, I looked up to see him regarding me with laughter shining in his eyes.
“What?”
“Nice hat.”
I was about to stick my tongue out at him when he removed a black shape from under his arm and plopped a cowboy hat on his head, adjusting it until it sat just right.
“Ditto,” I fired back with a smirk, voice muffled by the layers of my scarf.
“Why, thank you ma’am,” he said, disarming me with the brilliance and sincerity of his smile.
God, that smile could break hearts and drop panties in a millisecond, I thought with a wistful sigh, confused by the desire to trust him implicitly.
I’d spent so much time hiding away from the ugliness of the world that I’d almost forgotten that not everyone was only interested in the parts they could hurt and exploit. I was dazzled by the pure honesty of his smile and how it made his eyes sparkle with warmth and openness.
“Ready?” he asked, unaware of the way that he enchanted me.
Nodding, I snatched the room key from the night stand and shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, ready to brave the cold.
The diner was only a quick jaunt across the parking lot, but the blowing snow and minefield of pot holes made it treacherous and slow going. By the time we reached the front door of the diner we were covered in a thick layer of snow. I ducked under Holbrook’s arm as he held the door open. As I stomped the snow from my boots, something about the chiming bell above the door brought back a shiver of fear, like something half-remembered from a dream.
Before I could delve too deeply into the source of my sudden unease, a middle-aged woman in a faded uniform pushed her way through the swinging door from the kitchen. The shuffling of her feet spoke of a long day, but her voice was warm and friendly as she greeted us.
“Just the two of you?”
“Please,” Holbrook answered, flashing his brilliant smile at the waitress as he made a show of tipping the brim of his hat.
Taking two menus from beside the cash register, she led us to one of the booths beside the large windows. “Will this be okay?”
“Perfect, thank you,” my well-mannered companion replied, and with a tilt of his chin gestured for me to slide into the booth first, leaving the seat facing the door open for him.
As I slid onto the creaking vinyl, I tried to ignore the tension that settled between my shoulders, dancing over my skin like icy fingers. Scouring the diner and parking lot outside for someone watching us, I didn’t see anyone except for our waitress and a lone customer who sat several tables away, deeply engrossed in shoveling steak and eggs into his mouth. Gritting my teeth against the unnerving sensation, I gave my head a small shake to dislodge the feeling, attributing the shiver along my spine to the chill emanating from the window beside us.
I thought about taking off my jacket, but as another tremor rippled through me, I settled instead for just unzipping it and shaking off the last few flakes of snow that hadn’t melted.
“Can I get you folks some coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee for me,” I said, rubbing my cold hands together.
“Iced tea please, ma’am,” Holbrook answered with a smile as he shrugged out of his jacket to reveal a red plaid shirt unbuttoned over a pristine white t-shirt and dark blue jeans that hugged his hips in a rather intriguing way. I wondered if I’d find the pointed toes of cowboy boots peeking out from beneath the hem of his jeans if I looked down. Sneaking a glance around the edge of the table my suspicions were confirmed.
Crap on a cracker! I’ve got a bona fide Marlboro man on my hands, I thought, hiding my snort of amusement behind a cough.
“Aren’t you a little underdressed?” I asked, eyeing his boots and resisting the urge to examine just how well his jeans fit.
Giving me a slow wink he replied in a stage whisper, “I’m undercover.”
Snorting at his response as he slid into the booth across from me, my amusement dimmed somewhat when I noticed the barely visible bulge under his left arm. When I concentrated and drew in a deep breath, I caught the scent of metal and gun oil beneath the woody smell of his cologne and the rich, sugary notes that were just him.
“You ready to order, or do you need a few minutes to look over the menu?” our waitress asked, plucking a pencil from the bun at the top of her head and pulling a small spiral notebook from the pocket of her apron.
“A couple minutes would be great...” Holbrook said, leaning forward to read the nametag pinned to her uniform. “Betty.”
“I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute,” she said, tucking the pencil back into the cloud of her hair. “Can I get you a refill, Jim?” she called out to the only other patron in the diner.