Page 12 of Protecting What's Mine
Linc searched for something flirty or the appropriate euphemism and came up dry. He blamed it on exhaustion and hunger.
She grinned at him, and he felt it in his gut.
“Relax, Hotshot. We’re not having sex. You don’t have to worry about impressing me. You’re allowed to be tired.”
“Why aren’t we having sex?” he demanded, collapsing into the passenger seat of the spotless vehicle.
“I’m new here. I could be an ax-murdering black widow with a string of dead husbands.”
He gave her a deliberate once-over, pausing on her bare left ring finger. “I’m willing to take that chance.”
“Yeah, I bet you are. And if circumstances were different, if we met a few months ago, I wouldn’t mind taking your very impressive body for a spin.”
Linc felt just the slightest bit objectified, then decided he didn’t mind one bit.
“Well, now I have to ask what happened between past Doc Dreamy and present.”
“No. You don’t,” she said cheerfully. The engine roared to life. “Just like I’m not asking you about ‘your girl.’”
“If we’re not sleeping together, then we’re gonna be friends. And friends tell each other everything,” he said, changing tactics.
She smirked at him and shifted into reverse. “Always wanted myself a gal pal.”
He laughed. She was sharp. And he was smart enough to find that very attractive.
His stomach interrupted his entertainment with an aggressive reminder that it was empty.
“Listen, I know you’re valiantly holding out on my charm. But how do you feel about food? I don’t mean to come on strong—”Lies. “—but I could eat your very shapely arm right now.”
“Cannibalism is certainly the most interesting offer I’ve had today,” she said, backing out of the space and steering them in the direction of the highway that paralleled the hospital’s parking lot.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Linc thought of Nelson and his wife. One minute later, he and Nelson and anyone else working on that car would have ended up as charcoal.
They’d all been extremely lucky.
They exited the highway two stops before Benevolence, and Linc thanked his lucky stars when she pulled into the cracked asphalt parking lot of a diner.
He let her help him inside more out of necessity than flirtation. They settled into a booth with a scarred stainless-steel top and shiny napkin dispenser.
“Wanna tell me about it?” she asked, signaling for the waitress. “We can swap war stories, only make ourselves sound more heroic and good-looking.”
“Dreamy, look at us. People don’t get more good-looking than this.”
“Pfft. Listen, Hotshot, when you’re as attractive as we are, try to have at least afeignedsense of humility. No one likes a beautiful asshole.”
He grinned at her and decided it was possible that he’d finally met his match.
The server, a no-nonsense, end-of-her-shift type, arrived and peered at them over her blue-framed reading glasses. “What’ll it be, kids?”
Dreamy ordered green tea and an egg white omelet with a side of fresh fruit. Linc went for a gallon of coffee, three waters, and the meatloaf with a side of turkey sandwich.
The waitress didn’t blink, but Dreamy smirked. “Must have been quite the calorie burn,” she predicted.
Orders placed, they traded stories of the shift, the call, the victims.
“It was a DUI. The truck driver was shit-faced and didn’t see the construction signs. He just plowed into stopped traffic,” Linc told her.
Her sigh had weight to it. “If Drivers Ed kids had to walk on to an accident scene, no one would ever text or drink and drive again.”
