by Freya Barker
Yikes.
I peek at her with a little more interest. She’s very pretty; dresses a little young perhaps, with skintight jeans and plunging necklines, but I figure if you have it there’s nothing wrong with flaunting it. And Becca has it: the long legs, big rack, and long dyed-blonde locks framing a carefully made-up face. I could see her with Gray.
In my peripheral vision I see Mrs. Chapman trying to get our attention, and I stop what I’m doing and head over to her table.
“Have you decided?” I ask her. The poor woman seemed a little more confused than usual today and has been staring at the menu for the past thirty minutes. I tried to help her come to a decision earlier, but that only seemed to fluster her more.
“I think I’d like eggs Benedict. Is it too late?”
Normally we stop serving breakfast after the lunch rush, but I’m sure Jason is willing to make her some eggs Bennie. I put a hand on her arm.
“I’m sure we can whip those up for you, Mrs. Chapman. In the meantime, can I top you up with some fresh coffee?”
“Please.”
The woman’s thankful smile causes a twinge in my chest. I’ve long suspected the reason she takes forever to make menu choices and again to finish her meals, is because she craves the company. Her weekly visits to the diner may well be the only social interaction she has since her husband passed away about ten years ago.
Becca and Kim still appear to be in conversation by the cash register when I walk up to the window and put in Mrs. Chapman’s order with Jason.
“What’s with her?” Becca asks, when I grab the pot from the coffee station behind the counter. I instantly bristle at the somewhat judgmental tone.
“She’s just lonely,” I answer sharply, jumping to the old woman’s defense. “She comes here to see a friendly face.”
Becca seems to read me right, because she immediately smiles apologetically.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to—”
“No worries,” I interrupt her, feeling a tad guilty about my own knee-jerk reaction to Becca. Hearing her talk about Gray may have had something to do with that.
This is stupid. It’s not her fault, or his for that matter; I’ve been unable to stop thinking about him. You’d think someone my age and life experience would be smarter than to spend time thinking about a guy who couldn’t be more clear on where he stands. Instead my head jerks up every time the door to the diner opens; secretly hoping it’s him. I’ve even held off bringing my SUV in to the shop to have them put on my winter tires because I’m too concerned how Gray will react when he sees me.
Ridiculous. After my shift, I’m driving straight to the shop.
“There you go, Mrs. Chapman.” I smile at her, topping up her cup. “Jason is getting your eggs ready. Won’t be long.”
“Thank you, dear.”
When Donna comes in at four, I take off my apron, grab my purse and coat, and say my goodbyes. Outside I can tell the temperature is dropping and a mean wind has picked up. The weather forecast included a chance for flurries this afternoon, but so far they’ve held out. Looking at the dark skies to the north, it won’t be long.
I drive the two blocks to Olson’s and pull into the wide driveway, my eyes automatically scanning for Gray, but I don’t see him. Tank spots me, though, and comes walking up as I’m getting out from behind the wheel.
“Hey, Robin. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just wondering when you might have a chance to put my winter tires on?”
He looks toward the shop before turning back to me.
“Not today. I’m in the middle of a job I have to finish before the end of day and Gray is out on a call with the tow truck. We can do it tomorrow, though. Drop it off in the morning and I’ll give you a ride to the diner. I’ll have Kyle drop it off there when we’re done.”
I admit I’m a little disappointed Gray isn’t here, but I plaster on a smile for Tank.
“That’s great, but I start at six tomorrow morning. Can I drop by a little later? I can probably sneak out for a few minutes after the breakfast rush.”
He waves it off. “One of us’ll drop by and pick it up. Don’t worry about it.”
One of us. That could mean Gray.
Tank’s already heading back to the shop when I call out my thanks.
The next morning is busy, but every time I hear the door chime, my head bobs up. Finally, when I’m cleaning off a couple of tables in my section, Becca’s squeal has me turn around to see Gray walking in. My heart skips, but instantly drops like a rock as I watch Becca throw herself in his arms. I turn away when they seem to close tightly around her.
Gray
Last person I expect to see when I walk into Over Easy is fucking Becca Simms.
Fuck, it takes me a second to recognize her, even as she’s throwing herself against me. No sooner do her arms slip around my neck, I reach up to remove them. Prison made me uneasy with uninvited invasions of my space.
Oddly that didn’t seem to bother me with Robin.
My eyes immediately seek her out and I find her bent over a table on the other side of the diner, her back to the door, thank God.
“I heard you got out a few months ago.”
My head swings back to Becca, and I try to control the anger flooding me. I haven’t seen the woman since September 10, 2001. Not one single time.
I take an immediate step back when she lifts a hand to my chest and it hangs suspended for a moment before she drops it to her side.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I grind out in a low voice.
“I thought about you. Thought maybe…”
I shake my head sharply.
“Not happening. Not ever,” I bite off before turning my back on her, eyes searching for Robin, who seems to have disappeared.
I barely notice Becca slipping past me to tend to a table, but I can’t miss Kim who steps into my view.
“Go easy,” she says. “Not sure what’s going on, but you walk in, and I have one waitress almost in tears and another hiding in the washroom within minutes.”
Fuck.
“Sorry.”
Kim’s expression softens.
“I know y’are. Did you need a table?”
I shake my head, suddenly in a hurry to get out of here.
“Jimmy sent me to pick up Robin’s car.”
“Let me see where she is.”
I sit down on a stool at the counter while Kim goes in search of her. Becca returns, an uneasy smile on her face as her eyes meet mine.
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good. Look—” I start apologizing when a wave of her hand cuts me off.
“My bad. Don’t mention it,” she mutters, quickly turning her back to put an order in with the kitchen.
Robin appears from the narrow hallway leading to the bathrooms, Kim right behind her, immediately drawing my attention.
“Hi,” she says, a tentative look matching the one Becca shot me just moments ago on her face.
Spreading fucking joy wherever I go, it seems.
“Hey, Robin. Jimmy asked me to swing by and pick up the CRV from you.”
“Sure. Let me just fetch my keys.”
She ducks behind the counter to grab them from her purse, handing them to me. I not so accidentally brush her palm with my fingers and it stings when she pulls back her hand as if burned.
As determined as I was to keep my distance, I can’t let her think whatever it is putting those shadows in her eyes. We’ll need to talk.
“What time does your shift end?” I ask, standing up.
“Around four, but I’ll just walk over.”
I glance out the window where the snow is still coming down.
“I’ll pick you up.”
“Really, there’s no need.”
It’s clear she intends to avoid me, but I’m determined not to let that happen.
“Four. I’ll be here,” I insist, and almost smile at the irritated roll of her
eyes.
Back at Olson’s I make quick work of switching out her tires and parking her SUV behind the building.
“Aren’t you taking it back?” Jimmy asks when I walk back into the shop.
“Figure I’d do it after her shift ends.”
“I’ll just have Kyle drive it over.”
I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me and I give him what he wants.
“Fuck off, Jimmy. I said I’m doing it.”
He raises an eyebrow and one side of his mouth pulls up. Fucking smug bastard.
“Does that mean you smartened up?”
“The hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The fact you didn’t fucking leave this building for weeks and one day suddenly start heading to the diner for lunch? Then not one week later, you’re moping around here all day again? I’m not an idiot, brother. You forget, I spent more time than you at that goddamn diner, but never, not once, has that woman looked at me the way she does at you.”
I’m shocked at his words. It’s not only more insightful than I would’ve given him credit for, but it also makes me realize I’m not the only one who has more than a passing interest in Robin. Makes me feel like an even bigger idiot than I already did.
“I plan to talk to her,” I share.
“You should.”
“It could backfire on me, though.”
“If you think that, you’re an idiot. Don’t you think she already knows you’re an ex-con? Over Easy is a fucking hotbed for gossip. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t already know your entire story by now.”
I think about his words as I drive over to the diner some time later. I took the time to quickly wash up in my apartment and put on clean jeans and a fresh shirt.
Robin is already waiting outside, which ticks me off, because it’s still snowing. No reason she couldn’t have waited inside. I pull up at the curb and start getting out to open her door for her, but she’s already taking care of that herself.
“You looking to catch a cold?” I snap, when she pulls the door shut.
Her eyes jerk up to meet my angry ones and she presses her lips together as she wipes her wet hair out of her face.
“That why you’re picking me up? So you can bark at me? Because—”
She’s working up a steam and I do the only thing I can think of to do. I hook a hand behind her head and meet her mouth halfway over the console, drowning the rest of her words in a hard, almost desperate kiss.
By the time I pull away her lips are swollen and slightly abraded, but her eyes are dazed.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, but she catches it and instantly her face hardens as she sits back in her seat.
“Are you gonna run again?”
“No,” I respond instantly, straightening behind the wheel and snapping my belt in place, but I never let go of her eyes.
She stares at me for a beat before sharply nodding and buckling herself in. The moment I hear the snap, I yank the gear in drive and with spinning wheels on the slush, peel away from the curb.
As I drive off, I notice Becca watching us through the diner window.
“Where are we going?” Robin asks when I blow past Olson’s, probably driving much too fast for the weather.
“Your place,” I bite off, concentrating on staying on the road when all I want to do is pull off to the side, haul her over the console on my lap, and bury my hungry cock inside her.
We get out to her house in record time, despite the poor road conditions. The entire trip I avoid looking at her but I can feel every breath she takes. The moment I come to a stop in her driveway, I launch myself out of the SUV and round the hood, my eyes on hers through the window.
I open the door and she moves to get out, but I catch her before her feet touch the ground. With my arms banding around her I cover her mouth with mine, half-lifting her out of the vehicle. I’m not quite sure how we get to her front door with our mouths still fused. There she breaks the kiss and mumbles, “Keys,” against my lips. Reluctantly I let her go so she can open the door, but I crowd her back, and the moment I hear the door release, I push her inside ahead of me.
My fingers find the tie around her messy knot and pull it out as I kick the door closed with my foot. I keep moving her toward the wall until she has to brace herself against it. I wrap the tumble of waves in my fist to expose her neck and open my mouth on the tendon stretching to her shoulder.
Thoughts swirl unchecked through my mind, but the only thing I can focus on is her taste, her scent, and my uncontrollable need. With shaking hands, I strip her out of her jacket and manage to get the zipper of her jeans down, shoving a hand inside. My fingers encounter her slick heat and I groan in the crook of her neck.
“Gray…” she mumbles, her cheek pressed against the wall.
“Tell me to stop,” I plead, even as I’m pushing her jeans down over her hips, taking her underwear along.
“Please…”
As the single word leaves her lips, her feet step out of the jeans puddled at her ankles, and she presses her naked ass back, tilting her hips in invitation.
“Baby, I can’t—”
Already I’m freeing my cock, sinking through my knees so I line the blunt tip up at her entrance.
“Please, Gray…”
What little restraint I had left vanishes when she whispers my name and I surge inside her tight heat.
Chapter Eleven
Robin
“Shit, Sunshine.”
He leans heavily against me and I can feel aftershocks coursing through his body.
That was unexpected. And fast.
“I’m so sorry.”
I feel him pull away and there’s an instant chill at my back.
“You disappear on me again and I’ll throat punch you,” I mumble, my face still pressed to the wall. My legs are trembling too hard for me to stand on my own.
“Not gonna disappear.”
I hear the sound of a zipper and feel his hand on my hip.
I swallow my ‘Thank God’ at the last second. I was hoping he wasn’t done yet, because I’m sure not. The next second I feel a trickle down my leg.
Well, shit.
“I’m leaking.”
I try to push off the wall but when that doesn’t work, I roll until my back is against the wall and I’m facing him. I see the guilt written all over his face.
“I swear I’m clean. Been no one since I went in. Jesus, Robin, I’m clean.”
The meaning of what he’s telling me is slow to register but when it does, it makes me curious.
“How long were you in prison?”
It’s clear he’d prefer not to answer by the way his eyes flit away.
“Can I grab a towel or something?”
Right. The slow drip down my leg.
I can’t bring myself to move yet, though. I’m part in shock and part mortified at my lack of control. I’m standing here with my panties and jeans on the floor at my feet, my business on full display. I should be mortified but the kicker is, there’s still part of me painfully aroused.
“Please,” I answer him. “Second door on the right is the bathroom. Grab my robe while you’re there,” I add last minute.
He doesn’t actually touch me, but I can feel his eyes on me, when he passes and heads down the hall.
I vaguely register sounds of running water as I test my legs and find them a bit sturdier. Before I have a chance to start moving, Gray appears with a washcloth and my ratty old robe. I hold out my hand but he ignores it, shocking me by dropping down on his knees in front of me.
“You don’t—”
“Eighteen years,” he interrupts me, as he carefully wipes the inside of my leg. I’m so shocked by his words; I forget what it is he’s doing. “Lost control. Did I hurt you?”
I hiss when the rough terrycloth brushes my sensitive clit and his eyes shoot up to mine. Those pale blue eyes full of concern. I quickly shake my head.
“No. You didn’t.�
�
“I gotta ask; are you protected? On the pill?”
“No.” Poor guy, I catch him flinching. “Had a hysterectomy after Paige was born,” I quickly explain, as he gets to his feet.
He pulls me away from the wall and wraps my robe around me, tossing the washcloth down the hall in the direction of the bathroom. Then he grabs my hand and leads me inside where he pulls me down on the couch, tucking me to his side.
I don’t fight him, I’m still trying to process what just happened, but at least I’m doing it with him right here.
“Eighteen years?” I tilt my head back and watch as an array of emotions plays out on his face. But I swear, the one left in his eyes when he turns them on me is guilt.
“Pled guilty to second-degree murder.”
I’m unable to stop my sharp inhale, and I instantly feel his body stiffen as he removes his arm from around my shoulders.
“Were you?” I ask when I find my words.
I have to know. Just because I can’t imagine him doing something like that doesn’t mean he didn’t. Still, I can tell my question makes him uncomfortable.
He stands up and walks over to the fireplace, where he studies my family pictures, while I wrap my robe around me a little tighter. Most of those photos are of Paige, but some include my parents and me. He trails a finger over a snapshot my father took of me when I was big as a house with my daughter, and still believed myself happy.
“Yes.”
I can barely hear his whispered response. His back is turned to me and with his shoulders hunched, it’s as if he’s bracing for impact.
It’s hard to reconcile the vulnerable man in front of me with someone who’d willingly take another’s life. In fact, what little I’ve seen from Gray Bennet, he’s a kind man and liked by people who know him better than I do.
“What happened?” I finally ask in a gentle tone.
He keeps his back turned, but I notice him gripping the edge of the mantle hard enough his knuckles turn white.
“My sister called me—crying. All I could hear was screaming in the background,” he starts, and already my heart is bleeding for him. He grunts. “Hadn’t even turned on the news yet, but then I did. Saw the smoke coming from those buildings, knowing Reagan was in there.” He takes a step back and bends over with his hands braced on the mantle, his head hanging down. “Asked me to help her, but all I could do was watch helplessly. Told me she loved me, and to tell Mom as well. When the south tower came down the line went dead. I kept trying to call her back until I saw the north tower collapse and I knew…”
