Page 66 of Average Joe

Joe huffed, then stepped back, giving me space I hadn’t asked for but needed desperately.

His assessment stripped me raw so that every naked, vulnerable nerve was exposed. His eyes softened, betraying his concern. “You look like you need a drink.”

He looked like a puppy waiting for a treat.

He’d had my back, and though I didn’t need his white knight gesture, he’d been there, and that meant something. Still, defenses always up, I reminded him, “You know what happens when we drink.”

Joe nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor between us. He gnawed his lower lip, fighting a smirk, then lifted his eyes to mine. “How about we go for a ride instead?”

“No” fell from my lips on instinct.

My false bravado didn’t fool him. “Nothing clears your head better than the open road. It’s a gorgeous afternoon.” He took another step back, giving me more space to think clearly. Hand to his chest, he promised, “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Wouldn’t be a terrible thing to get out of my head for a while. Plus, he smelled amazing. “Okay,” I conceded.

“Yeah?”

Jeez, that smile. Too youthful for a man so dangerous.

“Sure.” I stepped deeper into my house, fearful I might jump him on my front porch. “Why not?”

“Great. But you’ll need to change into jeans and a warmer shirt. Boots, too, if you have them.”

“No problem.”

Joe clapped his hands together, turned, and jogged down the steps, then shouted over his shoulder, “Meet me out front in ten.”

* * *

Though hard and full of splinters, the worn wooden bench was a reprieve from the bike’s vibrations, and the aroma from the food truck had my mouth watering and my stomach grumbling.

Joe had been right. My head was clear.

My heart, however, ached something fierce. I’d been fighting tears for hours despite the wonderful ride.

Joe strode my way, balancing four plates, his heavy boots kicking up dust. He set the food down, then straddled the bench and scooted close, blocking my view of the patrons lined up for the famous fish tacos. The setting sun hit the shiny tin kitchen on wheels, and I suspected Joe was protecting me from that blinding glare as well. That was Joe, I realized. A guardian.

He placed one hand on my neck, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle, and his other on the table. “Wanna talk about that guy who was at your house earlier?”

I picked at my thumbnail, resenting the ache that was left in my chest every time Warren showed up. I didn’t want to talk about him, but sometimes, talking about the ugly things made them a little less heavy.

Joe dropped his arm as if sensing I needed space.

“Not much to say, really. The man crushed me.” I sucked in a long breath for courage, allowing time to choke down the emotion. “Took too many years to wise up and cut him out of my life.” I lifted a taco from the plate, brought it to my lips, and said, “He keeps coming back for more,” before taking a bite.

Joe waited a few seconds before turning to grab his own food. “Can’t say I blame him. You’re a hard girl to give up.” His tone left no doubt about his sincerity.

“Why do you say that?” I nudged him with my elbow. “You hardly know me. We’ve had sex. Had a few great conversations, some not-so-great conversations, and I’ve mostly been horrible to you.”

“Yeah.” He smirked, shooting me a sideways glance. “We’ve fucked. Fabulous fucking. Hands down, the best I’ve ever had, so there’s that.” He took a breath, his head bobbing. “You’re funny. You’re explosive. Smart and headstrong.” He shoved a taco into his mouth and chewed, making me wait. “You make a killer cup of coffee. And you are, by far, the prettiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I was no stranger to compliments. In my line of work, flattery hit like a hailstorm, hard and fast, bouncing off my thick skin, leaving me cold and annoyed. Compliments from Joe were like the first hint of sunshine after a long stretch of damp, gray days. I wanted to stand naked under the blue sky and bask in the warm glow.

Uncomfortable with the heat rolling through me, I busied myself with a long swig of root beer.

Joe cleared his throat, wiped the grease off his fingers, then wadded the napkin in a tight fist before turning to face me again. “I see you, Marley. You’re trying to hide from me, but I see you.”

“Yeah?” I asked, studying the graffiti on the building across the street. “What do you see?”

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