Page 44 of Dancin' with Demons

Renegade kisses me and at the same time, slides my keys from my hand. Standing, her to the SUV and unlocks her door, opens it, and helps her in. Once he gets in on the other side, he puts the key in the ignition and turns the engine over. “Where’s the interview, little love?”

“Mountain Paradise Diner,” I say softly.

Renegade actually smiles. “Ah, yeah, we know that one.” Backing out of the space, he heads to the front gate and waits for the prospect to open it. Making the right onto the road, I sit back and he puts his hand on my leg. “You look stunnin’, by the way.”

My cheeks heat as I cover his hand with mine. “Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later, Renegade pulls into a dirt parking lot for small diner right across from the entrance to the Smoky Mountain State Park pavilion area. It’s good placement for a diner since this is where people come to picnic, hand out, whatever pretty much all year long. There’s lots of people that hike the Smokies, even in the winter, in Tennessee, so I imagine this place gets a lot of foot traffic.

As I grab the door handle, Renegade puts his hand on my arm and I turn back to him.

“Good luck. I love you,” he says, his voice low and husky.

Leaning back to kiss him, I try not to let the way those three words from him send my heart pounding through my chest. “Love you, too.”

Opening the door and hopping out, I close it and walk swiftly across the parking lot to the front door of the diner. Opening it, a little bell jingles above me. Stepping in, I let my eyes roam over the inside. The edges of the room are lines of four-top booths while the far wall opposite me is countertop seating. Behind that is a window that shows into the kitchen. The rest of the floor is scattered with different sized tables.

“You must be Raylynn,” a slightly deep but feminine voice says, and I follow it to find a 40-something woman with brownish-red hair walking from the back toward me. As she gets close enough, she holds her hand out. “I’m Renee. We spoke on the phone.” Shaking her hand, a gentleman about her age comes up behind her and holds his hand out, too. “This is my husband, James. We own the place.”

They guide me to one of the back booths, and that’s where we spend the next hour going over everything from what they’re looking for in a new waitress, what to expect during a typical shift, and my work history. When they ask about if I have transportation and live close enough, a hint of recognition flashes through their eyes as I mention living with Renegade.

“Well,” Renee says with a smile, “would you be okay workin’ the dinner shift, three days a week to start. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from four to nine?

“That would be great,” I say, letting go of the breath I’m holding.

Renee and James offer to walk me out and we chat about Savior on the way. Stepping into the parking lot, they both look across the parking lot, smiles taking over their faces. Following their gazes, mine falls on Renegade, who’s leaning against the front of the SUV. When his eyes meet mine, he pushes off the car and meets us in the middle of the parking lot, his arm going around my shoulder.

“Renegade,” James says, his tone friendly but respectful.

“James,” my man says, tipping his head. “Renee, lookin’ beautiful as ever.”

Renee laughs. “No need to suck up, Renegade. I planned to hire her based on her experience regardless.”

Renegade laughs and I shake my head. “Wonderful. Is this gonna be weird now because of you?”

He looks down at me and feigns innocence. “Not my fault they know me, little love. They know the whole club. We eat here often enough.”

The four of us chat for a moment, and Renee gives Renegade my schedule before turning to me and says she’ll see me Wednesday evening. Once Renegade and I are back in the SUV, he kisses me and tells me he’s proud of me, and the excitement of finally having another job makes me happy as hell. It’s only three days a week, but it’s a job and that’s all I need. I don’t need something that’s fifty hours a week, but just knowing I’ll have something to do that matters to me is enough.

It does help to know that despite our little argument earlier, Renegade is proud of me for getting hired.

Chapter 17

Renegade

Raylynn smiles up at me as we step into the club house with her arm around my waist and mine around her shoulder. She’s done nothin’ but laugh and smile, chattin’ with more than she ever has, the entire ride home. Her bein’ this happy makes my chest swell with pride. This is all I want for the rest of her life— endless happiness.

“What’s the verdict?” someone yells, and we both look up. Catacomb is literally standin’ on one of the table at the back of the room, our usual crowd laughin’ around him but all starin’ at us. “Do we have gainfully employed ol’ lady on our hands?”

Raylynn chuckles and nods. Catacomb cheers as he jumps off the table, while the rest of the club claps and shouts congratulations at my woman. Glancin’ down at her, a blush spreads through her cheeks and it’s obvious she’s never had this level of celebration at Somethin’ she’s done. I’m glad my club is givin’ it to her, though, I can’t stop the snarl that I let out when my president comes over and snatches her up in a hug.

Settin’ her back down while she laughs, he pins me with a stare. “Down, Cujo. I can hug the woman if I want.”

“Hey, why’s he get to hug her and I was threatened with bodily harm,” Freeway says, causin’ another round of laughs.

“Because I’m the president, dick bag,” Catacomb shouts over his shoulder. “Seriously, congratulations, Ray. Savior’s been good as gold. Apparently, Archangel thought she needed more colorin’ stuff, so she’s at the table with new colorin’ books and another big box of crayons.”

Raylynn shakes her head as we follow Catacomb over. “Y’all need to stop spoilin’ her. It’s gonna go to her head.”

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