Page 27 of Nathan

I risk a glance sideways. Dex is staring out the side window, a faint blotching on her neck, although I can’t tell whether it’s from embarrassment or annoyance. Her hands are lying still in her lap, her fingers laced together, and she’s chewing the inside of her lip.

Five minutes later, I pull off the highway and stop in front of a local diner. “Better?” I ask, turning to her with a grin.

She grins back at me, her eyes lighting up. My abdomen clenches, lust an inferno, charring my insides. She’s just so fucking adorable. It’s taking all my willpower not to push the seat back, lie on top of her, and drive my cock home where it fucking belongs.

“It’s perfect,” she says, her hand already on the door latch. “Come on. I’m starving.”

“If my ass sticks to the plastic seat, you’re in deep shit,” I say, getting out of the car to the sound of Dex’s throaty laugh. My dick responds, pushing against my zipper. I should have locked the doors and let instinct guide me.

We head toward the diner, with her hand firmly clasped in mine, and I push the door open. A bell above the door tinkles, and I refrain from rolling my eyes. The podium is unmanned, although a sign states: Please wait to be seated.

On one side is a line of booths covered in red plastic, as I guessed, and on the other, a line of tables, some seating four, others two. At the counter, sitting on a chrome stool, is a guy dressed in scruffy, dirty clothes, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. Possibly homeless. Sadly, LA is full of people down on their luck, often through no fault of their own, the world having forgotten they exist. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a veteran. For a country that honors its serving military, we sure treat our veterans like shit.

The waitress bustles over. “Just the two, is it, lovelies?” And, as I could have scripted, she squints, then squeals loud enough to attract the attention of every single diner.

Just fucking perfect.

“Oh, my God. Wait there. Don’t move. I have to get Susan.” She dashes off, her white sneakers squeaking on the checkered floor. “Suze!” she yells. “Get out here now! You’re gonna want to see this, babe!”

I glower down at Dex, whose grin can’t get any wider, and I mutter in her ear, “You owe me a blow job for this, Titch.”

She licks her lips. “Doesn’t sound like much of a punishment.”

I almost groan. “Fuck me.”

“Later,” she whispers as the waitress comes barreling toward us with another woman—a platinum blonde in her mid-fifties, I’d guess.

“Oh. My. God,” she cries, grabbing my hands. “Oh, I love you in that show.”

“Thanks.” I paste on a winning smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“I need you to sign something.” She cackles and gives me an over exaggerated wink. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep it clean.”

Dex stifles a laugh, hiding it with a cough. At the rate she’s going, I’ll be getting blow jobs for a month. I give her the side-eye. Her forehead crinkles, all innocent.

“He wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t. Isn’t that right, Nate? Anything for your fans.”

I’m gonna kill her.

“How about a napkin or your cap?” I suggest.

She whips off the cap—thank fuck—and thrusts it at me, along with a pen. I check her name tag, address it to her, and sign my name.

“Can you add a couple kisses on the end?” she asks.

Dex snorts.

“Sure.” I hand it back to the waitress with a broad smile. “Could we take the booth at the very end? My friend and I have a few things to discuss.”

“’Course you can, sweetheart. You sit yourselves down, and I’ll bring the menus across.”

“Thanks.” With my hand firmly pressed in the small of Dex’s back, I propel her to the far end of the diner. Her body shakes beneath my palm, and one look at her face tells me it’s with laughter, not desire.

“Keep going, Titch, and you’ll be giving me that blow job right here.”

She sticks out her tongue. “You’re not that brave.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Try me.”

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