Page 7 of Light My Fire

She might not be that girl anymore, but she still didn’t have the fortitude to stop herself from taking the offering.

From wanting this night to turn out better.

She took the box around to the back of her pickup, pulled down the tailgate, and hopped on the back, setting the box on her lap.

He stood there, hands shoved into his pockets.

She gestured with her head to the empty place beside her, not sure just where she’d left her better sense. But maybe he deserved at least the tiniest of explanations.

Even if she hadn’t needed his help. Really.

Really.

Her gaze deliberately stayed away from the corner of the parking lot where her lies lingered.

The man slid onto the tailgate beside her.

She turned to him. “So, what’s your name, hotshot?”

He drew in a breath, but she chased the nickname with a smile.

He returned it. “Tucker Newman.”

“Nice to meet you, Tucker.” She opened the box of wings. “By the way, thanks for whatever in there, but really, I had everything under control.”

“Yep.”

“Really.” She poked around and found the least messy piece. “Nate was just…”

“Being a jerk. And the fight wasn’t about you, not really.”

“Yeah, well, I have a little history here.” She took a bite. “Mmm, that’s good.” Sweet and biting, exactly how she remembered Vic’s wings. She might have emitted a tiny moan of delight, and a chuckle went through his body, a hum that pulled her gaze to him, almost involuntarily.

He was grinning at her, something sweet in his expression. He had white teeth, a scar on his chin that dissected the layer of golden-brown whiskers, and if she read the other scars right, formerly gauged earlobes. A bad boy turned hero, then.

Oh boy, she knew how to pick ’em.

“Good shooting in there, by the way. It was starting to flash over.”

She wanted to shrug, like no big deal, but frankly she hated guns. At least the kind that killed people. A necessary evil in her profession.

“I don’t normally draw my weapon.”

“Well, that’s good.”

She liked him, the easy way he sat there, no judgment in his expression.

“Actually, I hate fighting. Back in high school, I used to get into it, but…well, I learned that life is a little easier when you follow the rules.” He looked at her, then took a packet out of his pocket and handed it to her. A wet wipe. He winked. “You can wait until you’re finished.”

He pointed to a tiny dribble of sauce on the side of her mouth.

“I just… These are so amazingly good.” She licked the sauce from her mouth. “I used to eat wings with my dad every Friday night.” She didn’t know why she’d admitted that. Maybe because she could.

After all, it wasn’t like he was sticking around, right? “So, where are you from?”

“Northwestern Montana.” He leaned back on his hands, watching the horizon. “It’s pretty far north, but we still get night. I don’t think I could ever get used to the sun not going down. I think I get about four hours of sleep every night, at most. My body has this strange, sleep-deprived buzz, but I’m not tired.”

“Sun sickness. You’ll get used to it, hotshot.”

---