Page 36 of The Harborer
“You smell like a cross between a brewery and a perfume factory,” she accused. Her eyes scanned his face and neck, landing on a purple mark below his earlobe. “Where. Have. You. Been?”
“Out.”
“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I’ve been worried sick.” A tiny muscle flexed in her jaw.
Micky clasped his hands together as though praying and pushed out his bottom lip. “Aw, did I make the poor widdle thing unhappy?”
“All the time,” she ground out.
“I turned off my phone because I didn’t want to hear you nag, nag, nag and ruin my good time.” He mimicked a mouth opening and closing with his hand.
“Well, guess what? You won’t have to worry about me ruining your good time anymore. I’m moving out.”
He burst out with a laugh. “Damn, woman! If you’re expecting a gig doing stand-up, don’t quit your day job!”
She flicked her eyes to Shane, who lifted the duffel from her grasp. “I’m ready now.” Walking past Micky, she spared him a backward glance. “Thanks for making this easy for me.”
Swaying where he stood, Micky craned his neck and watched her. Reality seemed to slap him out of his stupor, and shock contorted his features. “Hey! Wait a minute. You can’t go.”
As Shane hurried her into the truck, he could hear Micky wailing her name.
Micky lurched through the doorway, hands splayed on either side of the frame as he caught his weight. Shane hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, locking eyes with Micky. Micky’s expression transformed into a dark, dangerous scowl. Straightening, he shaped his thumb and forefinger into a gun and jerked it as if firing.
“Dead,” he mouthed.
Despite his heart hurling itself against his rib cage, Shane didn’t pause. In a series of practiced motions, he depressed the automatic door locks, fired up the engine, slammed the truck into reverse, and peeled out of the driveway. Then he shoved the transmission into drive and took off down the road. Beside him, Amy crumpled as a sigh escaped her lungs.
He reached over and squeezed her upper arm, the gesture natural and irresistible. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” She turned toward him, unshed tears leaving a sheen in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
The sight of her tears kindled panic inside him, which was almost laughable, considering the confrontation he’d just had with a whacked-out Micky. He nodded and turned his attention back to the road, unsure exactly where he was taking her. He hadn’t thought his plan through. Hell, he hadn’thada plan.
As his breathing slowed, his synapses began firing in proper sequence again. “Do you need to go back to the coffee shop?”
That little detail seemed to jar her, and she straightened, finger-combed her hair, and brushed imaginary lint from her sleeves. “Yes, I do.” Her gaze swung to his. “Can you drop me there? I can’t believe I left my car behind! And my shampoo!”
Shampoo?He pressed his lips together to keep the side of his mouth from twitching with a smile. “Slow down. We’ll get it worked out, one problem at a time. Let’s get you to back to the café first, okay?”
“Okay.” She sagged back into her seat before bolting upright again. “Oh no! I gave Cade tomorrow morning off. That means I’m on my own.”
He slid her a sidelong glance. “No, you’re not. You’ve got me.”
Confusion pleated that smooth space between her brows. “I’ve got—What?”
“Deputize me. Put me to work. You’ve still got an hour to go before you can close today, right?”
“Yes.” She drew out her answer, as though asking a question.
“So train me this afternoon. Tomorrow, I’ll be your kitchen bitch and help you through your morning rush.”
She burst out with a laugh that was part sob. “Oh my God, you’re too good to be true.”
His chest swelled two extra sizes, though it had no business doing so, and he gave up fighting his grin. “Glad to hear it.”
She looked out the windshield, her eyes lifting to the sky as she murmured, “Driving off into the sunset. There’s something poetic about that.”
Yeah, there certainly was.
