“You’re one to talk!”
“Well, I guess that solves our problem. Maybe fire and kerosene don’t go together for a reason. I’ll sit at the bar, you find a table. We’ll eat in peace and then I’ll drive you home… or to your next shave.”
“Maybe I’m not the only one who needs a shave,” I said matter-of-factly, getting out of the car.
As he stalked inside, I received a call on my phone. “Hello?”
“It’s Reno. I have an address for the cousin. Tonight?”
When I stepped inside the diner, a blast of cold air made me shiver. “Tonight is no good. I have to work, and there’s not enough time right now for me to do all that. Don’t you dare go without me,” I said, sitting at a table with my back to the window.
He sighed. “It’s your money, but I’m gonna have a real problem if you blow me off tomorrow.”
“No, tomorrow is good. The sooner the better. Do you want to pick me up or—”
“Have you ever ridden a bike?”
Sweet Mary, no! I’d seen Reno’s bike, and after my mother’s car accident years ago, riding a motorcycle would terrify me. Nothing between me and the hard pavement but thin air.
“Why don’t you stop by, and I’ll drive?”
“And leave my bike on the human side of town?” he almost growled.
A man walked in and looked my way before approaching the counter.
“Do you want me to come pick you up?”
I knew that wouldn’t go over well. Having a woman in her sporty little Trans Am pick up the big and strong private investigator? I could almost hear male pride crumbling on the other end of the phone.
“This is problematic,” he murmured. “We don’t have a free car tomorrow. Your swinging by is no good unless you want to get me in deep tar with my Packmaster. I should have thought this out before accepting your offer.”
“So let’s do this: we meet up at Sweet Treats Bakery. I’ll zip in and say hello, and you show up with bike trouble. I’ll offer to give you a ride, and your bike will be right in front of the shop where Lexi can keep an eye on it.”
“Damn. You’re good. Let’s do that. Noon okay?”
“See you there.”
After the call ended, I looked up and saw Wheeler at the counter eating what looked like a sloppy joe. He sucked sauce off his finger and shoved a few tater tots into his mouth. I was going to have to give him tomorrow afternoon off. Reno would be all the bodyguard I needed, and I didn’t want to risk them finding out about each other. Reno might back out completely if he found out too many resources were being extended to me, and I needed him.
My, this was getting more complicated than I first thought.
“Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?”
I glanced up at the man who had walked in a moment ago. A pair of narrow shades with orange lenses sat low on the bridge of his nose, allowing me to see his eyes. His neck and forearms were red in contrast to the skin just beneath his sleeves. He had a small potbelly and hair on his knuckles. I only noticed that because the fingers on his left hand were splayed on my table.
“Maybe I look familiar because you were gawking at me when you walked in?” I suggested. I really wasn’t in the mood for this; clearly he had seen me perform. It went with the territory, and while most were gentlemen about it, ten percent of those customers felt like they owned me outside the club.
“Ah,” he said, as if reaching an epiphany. “Almost didn’t recognize you in a dress. I think you look sexier without it. How come I haven’t seen you at Palazio’s?”
I hadn’t worked at that human club in over five years, and those were desperate times. “Because I’m working in a prestigious law firm.”
“Well that’s a travesty,” he said insincerely. “Are you here alone? I’d love to hear all about your new job. Why don’t I buy your lunch?”
Wow. Way too eager.
“I’m not interested, and I prefer to eat alone.” I didn’t say it in a rude way, but I’d learned a long time ago not to give a man the idea he could pressure me. Firm and to the point. That lets a girl know who the assholes are right away.
“That’s not very nice. I remember you being so much nicer,” he said, his eyes traveling across my body as if they had a passport. “If you’re busy now, why don’t I take you somewhere this weekend? There’s a nice steakhouse up the road.” He reached out and brushed his fingers on my arm. “I’m Dave. Is Gypsy your real name, or was that just a stage thing?”
A teenage girl at a nearby table was watching with interest, and suddenly I felt like I could be her life lesson on how she should allow men to treat her.
“No, Dave. I’m not interested, and I’d like you to leave my table. I don’t think we’d be having this conversation if you hadn’t recognized me from the club. Be a sweetheart and pay attention when a woman says no.”