Page 38 of Unwrapping Deviance

I shouldn’t have let him.

In the middle of the parking lot, in broad daylight with eyes everywhere, watching...

I did not give a shit. It felt so good, but...

I steal a glance in Daniel’s direction, at his set features as he keeps a protective arm hooked around my waist and scans the diner.

The silent diner.

The single room with at least a dozen people clustered around square tables, all paused in whatever they were doing to watch us walk in.

They seem confused, like they recognize the faces but are unsure from where. Some look downright dumbfounded.

The aggressive scrutiny has me pressing into Daniel’s side, comforted when his hold tightens.

“Chin up, sweetheart. Don’t let them see you flinch,” Christian murmurs into my ear, his touch hot and possessive against my back just above Daniel’s arm.

But I’m not afraid or self-conscious. I was surprised. Now, I’m annoyed.

“What the hell are they staring at?” I mutter, meeting each of the faces locked on ours with my own frown.

“We’re celebrities here in Jefferson,” Christian drawls with dark amusement. “But mostly they’re upset because I’ve fucked their daughters or wives, or both.” He says it loudly, with a grin he shoots me when voices rise across the room.

I don’t know if he’s being honest, but no one likes his bold claim. The hiss and scuffle as bodies shift in their seats makes me think he ruffled some feathers.

Good.

Fuck them.

I feel myself return Christian’s grin as Daniel leads us to a table.

It’s a corner booth between two walls of glass. There’s a little, metal box at the end that immediately makes me forget the gawking weirdos.

“A jukebox?” I squeak, excitement turning my voice high.

I dig into my purse, rifling for spare coins and only finding a pack of gum, my phone, a receipt for snacks I grabbed on the drive down, my paperback novel and a fistful of tampons.

I catch Daniel and Christian checking their pockets, but their palms come up empty as well.

“Sorry, baby. Next time.”

Deflated, I relent and slide into the booth. Daniel takes the spot next to me while Christian sits directly across from us. He immediately stretches out, extending his arms across the back and widening his knees.

Daniel drags me into him and kisses the side of my head.

We have barely been sitting a minute when a short, full woman with violently orange locks curled tight around her square face hobbles over twisting small fingers in her apron. Herclosely set eyes the murky gray of old dishwater moves from Daniel to Christian. Thin, unpainted lips curl.

“My, if it isn’t Danny and Chris MacAllister as I live and breathe. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day you two would darken our doorsteps again.”

I don’t like her.

So far, this whole town is shit and I hate everyone, but she’s still smiling like seeing the boys is just the greatest thing while her voice drips with bile

“Hey Mabel,” Christian greets without batting an eye. His fingers drum on the back bench. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you still waiting tables seventeen years later and yet here we all are. Coffee, please.”

I don’t know whether to be horrified, amused or mortified by the smooth delivery.

Mabel is no longer smiling. Her face is doughy with splotches of crimson.

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