Page 23 of The Rogue

I put the car in drive and steer onto Main Street. “Because we’re having breakfast there.”

She watches me like we’re having a moment where I don’t despise her. Like she’s waiting for me to turn to her and confirm our newfound friendship. Well, it’s not going to happen.

“So…are we like, cool now?”

And there it is.

“Far from it. I’m feeding you as a thank you for this morning, and then I’ll throw Beau an extra few bills to speed up your repairs.”

“Okay—”

“After that, I’m going topersonallyfollow you to the highway until you’ve cleared some border—town, state, doesn't matter.”

She stares at me with wide eyes, which I pretend I don’t notice as I keep mine on the road.

“What’s your damage?”

“I don’t like to be fucked with, that’s all. And I reallydon’t like that my father fucked with me foryourbenefit.”

She laughs. “Oh, is that all? Well, then, let me cancel my master plan to fuck with you until you’re blue in the face.”

“Am I dead? Is this purgatory?”

She laughs again—but with her whole body. My pulse stumbles at the sound of it. The sight. It’s not at my expense. It’sreal. As if all the sarcasm typically inside her melts away and in its place is warm, genuine amusement.

Okay, it’s a little at my expense.

But I don’t mind it so long as I get to witness it.

She swipes at a tear at the corner of her eye. “Oh, that was good, Indie. Breakfast with you might just be tolerable.”

I turn onto a side street. “So, how does my father know you need fuel soon?”

She sighs, coming down from the high of her laughter. “I’d…forget to eat something in the morning once my shift started and…may have fainted once. Twice.”

“So you’re a troublemaker and a damsel in distress.”

“I’m no damsel. I laugh at women who complain about morning sickness for a few months. Because I literally live with it.”

“Ever try and find out why?”

“Sucking candy, ginger tea, I’ve heard it all. They give you solutions instead of finding out what’s wrong with you.”

“Maybe it’s all in your head at this point.”

“Maybe,” she mutters, her thoughts drifting her away.

She’s quiet as we enter the bakery. Tessa sits by the back wall while I order at the counter. I join her with two cups of coffee and pass her one.

“Thanks.” She pops the lid and blows softly while I struggle to pull my gaze off those pouty lips. “So, who got you the mug you claim isn’t yours?”

“Lonnie,” I answer flatly, blinking away.

“Pepper’s friend?”

“Technically, she’s Pepper’s boss.” My ex Lonnie, is the Denver Ice Queens choreographer and trainer. When Pepper returned to town last year as a runaway bride, Chase got her a gig at the arena in an effort to disguise her. They had it all worked out, even faked an engagement so no one would figure out the woman with the million-dollar reward on her head by the name of Penelope Walker—was our very own Pepper Woods.

Even after the debacle with her ex was over, Pepper stayed an Ice Queen, working with her—now real—husband, the team captain of the Denver Kings hockey team, and my brother.

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