Page 8 of You Complicate Me

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“I’m with Nick O’Connor, brother of the bride.” There was a loaded pause. “I’ll explain tomorrow,” she added wryly.

“Yes, you will. And get there as quick as you can. Don’t leave me stranded with those people.”

Grace laughed. “Those people are your family.”

“Doesn’t make them any less annoying. Besides, you know you’re my favorite.”

“Aw, I’m touched.”

“And sarcastic. Don’t forget sarcastic.”

“Never. Love you.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Grace disconnected the call, then shoved the phone back in her purse. “So what do you recommend we do, marshal?”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in the front in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous. Instead, it gave him a just-fucked look that made Grace cross her legs. Tight.

“Well, the sun’s going down, and it doesn’t look like traffic will be moving again anytime soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. I say we get the hell off the highway of the damned at the first opportunity and don’t get anywhere near it again until morning. What do you say? Dinner and a hotel?”

A meal and a good night’s sleep sounded like heaven to Grace. “Let’s do it.”

He glanced over at her, brows raised. Then she realized the double meaning of her statement and rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up,” she muttered.

Nick chuckled. “Whatever you say, angel. Whatever you say.”

Chapter Four

Exit 41 boasted a gas station with an attached diner, a bail bond office, and a motel with a flashing neon vacancy sign. Or, at least Nick assumed it said vacancy. It was hard to tell with so many letters burned out.

Since the place wasn’t even on the map, Nick assumed Exit 41 existed solely for the benefit of long-haul truckers and other travelers. All he knew for sure was that the closest real town was twenty miles and an hour in traffic past the limits of his patience. Stopping elsewhere wasn’t really an option at this point.

Nick parked the car in front of the diner and glanced over at Grace, half expecting her to refuse to go inside. After all, a high-priced attorney in LA probably didn’t spend much time in places like Nadine’s Eat Here and Get Gas. But Grace surprised him by throwing the door open and practically leaping from the car.

“Thank God,” she said on a huge sigh. “I’m starving.”

He managed to grab the door for her, but only a heartbeat before she would’ve tugged it open herself.

An air-conditioned blast of fried-food-scented air smacked Nick in the face as soon as he followed Grace into the diner. His mouth instantly watered. Apparently he was starving, too.

The inside of the diner was a pleasant surprise. The black Formica tabletops were spotless, and the red vinyl booths and stainless-steel counter gleamed under the fluorescent lighting. Not at all what he expected of a truck stop diner.

A heavyset, forty-ish woman with a mop of brick-red curls and a nametag that proclaimed her Nadine greeted them with a wide, gap-toothed grin. “Hi, there,” she said. “Table or booth?”

“Booth,” Nick answered.

“Sure thing, handsome.”

They followed Nadine to a booth at the back of the diner. Nick sidestepped Grace to get the seat that faced the door. No self-respecting ex-Marine would ever sit with his back to the door. Grace glanced at him with a question in her eyes, but didn’t seem to mind too much as she took a seat across from him.

“Drinks?” Nadine asked as she handed them two laminated menus.

“Coke,” Grace said. “Regular, please.”

Nick ordered the same and turned his attention back to Grace when Nadine shuffled back to the kitchen.

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