Page 75 of Simon Says

“This is ridiculous. I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“I don’t mind.”

“But I do. It’s not what I’m used to and it makes me feel like a slug. Let me get the sandwich and you can do the coffee.”

Simon studied her. She’d regained some warmth in her cheeks, and she wasn’t trembling as much. Dakota Dream was not a woman to be coddled.

“Your leg is feeling better?”

“Let’s put it this way. Making a sandwich isn’t going to hurt it any more, but sitting and stewing is for the birds.”

“All right.” He pointed out the location of plates, glasses, bread, and chips. “Make me one, too.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re allowed, with your training?”

“I’m strict, but not that strict. One sandwich won’t hurt anything.”

“Long as you’re sure.”

After they sat at his small table with the food in front of them, coffee for Dakota, water for Simon, she went back to icing her various pains. She took turns, first holding the ice against her face, then her leg. She timed it perfectly, like a pro, making Simon wonder how much experience she had with injuries—and why.

Simon said, “Next question.”

“Gee, I’m starting to feel like a world spy being interrogated.”

Teasing? By the moment, she returned to her old self. “How do you know Barber? You realize that I assumed it was his vocation, not his name.”

“I know.” She grinned at him, but it was a crooked grin, given the battery on her face. “He thinks the different slogans are funny.”

The sweatshirt she wore now said,BLOW JOB? and had a picture of a blow dryer in the background.

Brows raised and temperature elevated, Simon said, “That one’s suggestive.”

“Yeah, Barber claims he had this one made specifically for me. It’s huge, so I usually wear it to sleep in, not in public. But I didn’t even think about it when I pulled it out of my suitcase.”

“You and Barber seem really close.”

“We are.” With most of her sandwich gone, Dakota downed half her coffee and said nothing more.

She didn’t plan to elaborate? Simon snorted. He wouldn’t let her off that easy. “How did the two of you meet?”

She set down her coffee and began pulling at the crust on her bread. Not to discard it, but to eat it. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She sighed, gave him a grievous look, and wolfed down more food. Around a mouthful, she said, “I’m wrong. Actually, it’s a short story.” She chewed, swallowed. “In addition to the band, Barber teaches self-defense. I met him at some classes.”

“What kind of classes?”

“Muay Thai. Remember I told you that I’d been studying off and on for three years now? Barber’s been instructing me. I’ve also taken some grappling and kickboxing classes.”

“With Barber?”

“No. He only teaches Muay Thai.” She tilted her head. “He’s really good, Simon. With some additional training, he could probably compete in the SBC. But he’s totally into his music and only teaches now to stay in shape.”

“How good are you?”

“Good enough to defend myself, but without enough guts.” Propping her elbow on the table and her forehead on her hand, she slumped. “Like on the stairs tonight. Defending myself never entered my mind. I panicked, and forgot everything I know. Like I said, I have some courage issues.”

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