Page 52 of Tate
He took off his sunglasses, gave one of the guys a hard look, then slid into the booth seat opposite Scarlett.
She grabbed a menu propped near the napkin holder and handed it to him. “Best thing in these places—the house burger and probably the fries. Order for me—I’m going to use the bathroom.”
He watched her as she slid out of the booth and headed toward the back.
A Garth Brooks song came on, apropos for the environment.I’ve got friends in low places…
Ford scanned the menu, his gaze traitorously falling on the O-rings and ribs.
He nearly missed the movement from the bar. One of the bigger guys—sporting a short beard, a bandanna on his head, and a bare chest under a leather vest—headed toward the bathrooms.
Ford put the menu down, watching.
Scarlett came out of the bathroom just as the man met her in the hallway.
He stood in her way.
Ford started moving out of the booth.
Then, suddenly, she laughed and patted the man on his muscled arm and moved past him.
Ford stilled, and her gaze landed on his, her smile fixed.
So maybe he’d sort of overreacted there. He slid back into the booth, and she joined him.
Her neck was a little flushed.
“You okay?”
“Mmmhmm.” She picked up her purse. “But we’re leaving. Now.”
He raised an eyebrow but followed her back out into the sunshine. She climbed into the truck, and only then did her breath blow out. “Right. Okay. So yeah, he sort of mentioned a suggestion of what we might do in that bathroom together.”
Ford froze. She put her hand on his arm. “I made a comment about the likelihood of that and laughed. He might have been a bit surprised at my frankness. We should probably go before he tells his friends.”
Ford just stared at her.
“Unless you want to grab that steak? Might need to bring your Winkler in with you.”
He put the truck in reverse. Pulled out. “You’re not boring, are you, Red?”
“Just trying to keep you out of trouble, Navy.” She leaned back, put her bare feet on the dash, and closed her eyes.
They hit another McDonald’s in Salt Lake City, and he retrieved his salad out of the cooler while eying her fries and chocolate shake.
They hit construction just north of Ogden on I-15, and a line of traffic slowed to a crawl. The sun hung low, casting the mountains to the east in an amber glow. She checked the GPS on her phone. “We’re getting close. Get off at 13, toward Corinne.” She pointed to an upcoming exit.
He took it, and they found themselves wandering along country roads, past ranches and farmland, through a small town.
They came out the other side and went under a highway with no on-ramp.
“Oops, I think that was our road.” She waved him forward. “Keep going.”
Well, he always obeyed her voice. He went past a Texaco, a diner, more farmland, a tiny town with a Dairy Queen, and finally noticed she’d gotten very quiet. He glanced over at her.
“Turn right at the next road.”
He raised an eyebrow but turned onto a road named W 2000 S, which felt way off the grid.
