Page 145 of American Hellhound
Maggie Lowe was proof positive that maybe, just maybe, God didn’t hate him as bad as he’d always thought.
~*~
“It looks great,” she said, gaze seeking out the Monte Carlo through the big plate glass window again.
“You sure you haven’t gotten attached to my truck?” Ghost teased from across the booth. When she glanced at him, he was giving her that crooked smile she’d come to love so much, half-cocky, half-unsure. Most of the time he looked at her like he couldn’t believe she was still here.
“No offense to the truck, butno. Definitely not.”
“Car snob,” he said with a chuckle, lifting another slice of pepperoni onto his plate.
She grinned. “Yeah, and who made me that way?”
“Just some asshole.” He shot her a wink.
Maggie rolled her eyes and caught sight of Aidan beside her, mouth full of pizza, eyes wide and moving from her face to Ghost’s, back and forth, mystified.
Ghost didn’t like to talk about his ex – Maggie knew her name was Olivia, that she had high ideas of herself, and didn’t give a damn about her son. Ghost had said they fought, that by the end that was all they did. Aidan, she realized with a pang, wasn’t used to this kind of flirtatious banter. To be fair, Maggie wasn’t all that familiar with it either, though her parents never fought. Her house was full of quiet meals and polite chitchat.
“Aidan, your dad thinks he’shilarious,” Maggie said with another, more exaggerated eye-roll.
Aidan giggled.
“Wait.” Aghast. “You don’t think he is, do you?”
His giggles turned into snorts. “Sometimes.”
She feigned shock and he erupted into bright peals of laughter, that good little-kid stuff that left you breathless and lightheaded. The kind of laughter that bubbled up in a person’s soul and altered their entire worldview.
When she snuck a look across the table, Ghost’s expression was warm, thankful.
And then it dimmed.
“Here, kid.” He dug a handful of change out of his pocket and slid it across the table to Aidan. “Go try your luck with Ms. Pac-Man, alright?”
“Yes!” Aidan snatched up the quarters and launched himself from the booth, barely dodging a waitress as he sprinted for the machine.
“Will he be alright by himself?” Maggie asked, frowning.
Guido’s Pizza had been around since her parents were dating, and it looked its age: musty carpet, Formica tables, rips in the vinyl booths. The pizza was the best, though, and there were always kids over at the arcade games set up next to the bar – Maggie suspected the design allowed bartenders to keep an eye on things. She’d played the games herself when she was Aidan’s age, her parents glad to send her off with a handful of quarters so they could have a little adult time. But now, watching Aidan clamber up onto the stool, she wondered the sorts of things she’d never wondered before: would he be safe? Were there child predators in here? Was some bigger kid going to pick on him?
Damn, she was thinking like a parent.
“We can see him,” Ghost reasoned.
“Yeah.”
He pushed his plate to the side and reached for his beer. “I made the pitch this morning.”
She’d known he was going to, but hadn’t wanted to ask in front of first Collier, and now Aidan. While they ate, she’d managed to talk herself back from her nerves and forget about it. But they returned full force, her stomach as jittery as if it was her project and her club.
She set her half-eaten slice back down on her plate. “How’d it go?”
“Everyone was on board.”
“Babe, that’s fantastic.”
He held up a hand.Let me finish. “Duane said he won’t give me the startup money. I have to go get a loan.”
