Page 10 of Long Arm of the Cowboy

Her smile spread across her face. “Took ya long enough. Now get in. I’ll let you be the radio deejay.”

ChapterThree

Clay remembered Lark now. The Steele kids came from a tough background. If he recalled correctly, there was some trouble with the parents that left the kids’ home life unstable.

Clay could understand how the past shaped and marked a person, but this woman? Was off her rocker.

She actually believed he was going to allow her to tag along with him to deliver a bomb to somebody who could disarm it, let alone drive there?

“No way,” he ground out.

“Yes way.”

Her juvenile response made him shake his head. “How old are you? Are you even legal?”

“Of course I’m legal. I told you, I’m a reporter, which means I graduated from college and have been living on my own for several years. C’mon,Clay, I’m just trying to lighten the mood. You seem to be on edge.”

“On edge? Hell yes, I’m on edge. And I’m not nearly caffeinated enough for this crap.”

“I can help you there. I’ve got a full, undrunk coffee in my cupholder.”

He couldn’t help but perk up at her words. He peeked through the window and saw two cups there. “Why do you have two? Are you a caffeine addict or something?”

When she smiled, the woman had a dimple. A bona fide dimple so deep that it looked like somebody poked a freckled marshmallow.

“Well, yes, I am pretty fond of my coffee, but I just did a job and delivered coffee and fresh donuts to an office. I sometimes buy two coffees and put one in my fridge at home for later. I like it cold.”

“Lark.”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking and get in. The passenger seat,” he clarified through gritted teeth.

For being so small, she moved fast. She hopped into the vehicle and slammed the door. When he got to the driver’s door, she already had her seatbelt fastened.

Her dimple flashed. Only it wasn’t justonedimple. Dammit, there were two of them. Two cutesy dimples that went along with her sunny disposition and her yellow car and her goddamn yellow polka-dotted shirt.

He grabbed the coffee and chugged half of it.

“Uh…that one was mine,” she said.

He swung his gaze to her.

“I already drank out of it. But don’t worry—girls don’treallyhave cooties.”

Oh god. He wasn’t going to survive a trip around the block with this woman.

He put the cup back in the holder and started the engine. “Tell me where you live.”

“Why would I do that? I’m going with you.”

He leveled her with a hell-no look. “No, you’re not.”

“It’s my car.”

“There’s a bomb in the back.”

“But there’s a reallybigcountdown clock. We’ve got time. Besides, it must not be too dangerous or you wouldn’t be asked to drive it to some mystery coordinates.”

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