Page 21 of Cold Foot King
He came to stand beside her. “I’ll stay. I got nowhere to be.” He crossed his arms and tipped his chin at the middle row. “Beer is my drink. I can have a few without fuckin’ up my gorilla. I barely feel beer. Well, at least, that’s how it was. I’ve been in Cold Foot for a while.”
“How long?”
“Three years. You?”
“Not that long. Feels like a decade though.”
“What’s your drink of choice?”
She chewed on her thumbnail thoughtfully. He wasn’t making her pay for popping off at him. She appreciated it, and would reward him with an answer. “I like the fruity stuff, but I don’t drink enough to mess with my lioness either. I get why you don’t drink much. My cat is a little…”
“Spicy?”
She snorted. “How did you guess?”
He gave her a smirk and looked back to the fridge. “Look, a couple of the guys were in here earlier, and they said there is a bar behind this place. Just a short walk. You want a drink? You want to feel normal? Or as normal as you can with cameras all around you? Go to a bar, get a drink, get some food, take a breath, and just…breathe.”
“You saw the cameras too?” she asked.
“Yeah, about one second after I came in here.”
“The Fastlanders are pretty terrible at hiding them.”
“I don’t think they’re trying to hide them. We’re all grown. We know the drill. They’re going to make a judgement on who gets along the best, and who can have a mature conversation without flying off the handle and bleeding each other.”
“Remember that one time you fought the phoenix?” she asked, trying to hide a smile.
“Shut up. That wasn’t my fault.”
“It was so stupid,” she said with a laugh. “Why did you do that?”
“I saw them shoot you. How was I supposed to know it was a tranquilizer? I thought they were trying to kill you. I’m going to pay out. I’ll see you back at the hotel.” He waved to a little camera positioned on top of the beer fridge and sauntered off.
She watched him go. Who the hell was this man, who could make her feel such strong emotions like this? Hate and interest, disdain and care. He had fought the phoenix…for her? To protect her?
Why?
She heaved a sigh and frowned as she watched him talking easily to the cashier. He was asking questions. Asking how far away the closest bank was, and if there was Wi-Fi service anywhere in town.
She wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but King was hot. Not just the boy-next-door kind of hot either, but that dangerous, sexy, quiet but well-spoken, emotionally-intelligent kind of hot. The muscles helped. The dark scruff on his face helped. The sleeve of tattoos that lay hidden under his clothes helped. Hell, even his scars were sexy. He’d seen and done shit. He wasn’t afraid of a fight. Clearly. He’d fought freaking Wreck Itall, and she remembered the fear in the Fastlanders’ voices when he’d been coming for them.
King was an asshole, and she would never change her mind about that, but he was an interesting, and very physically appealing, asshole.
She turned and snatched the last bag of powdered donuts off the endcap, then strode for the checkout counter. She could just walk to the counter freely, without someone barking to slow down, or speed up, or telling her where to be and when. She could grab a bottled water on the way. She could grab a beef stick at the register. Excitement suddenly zinged through her, and gah, this was overwhelming. She was angry one moment, and elated the next.
Today had been an absolute roller coaster.
She spied the cashier placing a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers in King’s bag.
“Planning on a hangover tomorrow?” she joked, surprising herself. She was talking so easily to him.
“Nah. My head’s been killing me all day.”
“Oh man. Wait, you died—errr, were brought back? Green fire?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, handing the cashier the right amount of cash.
“You need water. My headache lasted three days. I thought I was dying all over again.”