The Dirt on Ninth Grave Page 50


“Great choice,” I said, latching onto coffee and running with it before she changed her mind.

I could practically feel the heat of Reyes’s gaze on me. But better me than Francie. That was my motto.

The lunch rush was even worse than the day before, and it was only Reyes’s second day. I thought about demanding Dixie hire more help, but since I’d just fallen through her ceiling, I decided against making demands for the time being.

Reyes glared but made sure I ate. Francie flirted and made sure I noticed. Erin glowered and, well, glowered some more. Cookie only assaulted one customer, and it wasn’t nearly as sexually charged as her normal fare. And Lewis? Lewis was in love. Shayla didn’t come in until five, but I could see him counting down the minutes. My heart wanted to burst little hearts out of its left ventricle for them both.

With only about thirty minutes left on the clock, I walked into the kitchen to see how Lewis was doing, but before I could talk to him, Reyes looked up and said, “It’s been almost seven hours, and you’re still alive. I’m impressed. Figured you would’ve abandoned all hope by now.”

I let out a loud sigh, turned on my heel, and left. But I didn’t go far. I went into Dixie’s office, actually. She was out on a bank-slash-nookie run – I was pretty sure she was practicing the popular pastime referred to as an afternoon delight with a boyfriend she kept stashed somewhere – so I helped myself again to the belt from her canvas trench.

I rolled it into a ball, stashed it in the back of my pants, and went in search of a victim. I stormed into the kitchen so fast, the door ricocheted back and almost slammed into my face. It didn’t. I caught it, but just barely.

Reyes arched a brow. I strode up to him and pushed, walking him back until we were between the prep counter and the walk-in unit. It allowed us a tidbit of privacy. I continued to push until I had him up against the wall. His dark irises sparkled with interest. Especially when I brought the belt around, gathered his wrists in front of him, and tied him up.

Tendrils of heat slid beneath my clothes as he looked down at me, and I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. How much control did he have over the heat he emitted, the energy he radiated?

He wasn’t that much taller than me, not quite a head, but I grabbed Sumi’s stepstool and placed it at his feet. Now we stood eye to eye, and his particularly mesmerizing eyes held both humor and intrigue.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. He let me. It started out sweet and sensual, but it quickly escalated into a kiss more passionate than I dreamed possible. Then his arms were free and around me. Somehow he managed to reverse our positions so my back was to the wall instead of his, and still keep me on the stool.

He raised a hand to my jaw and lifted, exposing my neck so he could place blisteringly hot kisses on it. I gasped and tilted my head farther to give him more access. An arc of heat followed his trail, and I curled his hair into my fists, pulling him closer, begging him not to stop.

“I’m sorry, Dutch,” he said, doing the exact opposite.

My body screamed in protest.

“For this.”

I thought he was apologizing because he’d stopped. He was apologizing for the almost translucent bruises he left on my throat. They were barely visible, but he ran his fingers over the ones he could see. It caused the most amazing sensations to race down my spine and dart between my legs.

I refocused on him. On his full mouth. On his clenched jaw. On his serious expression.

“I claim you,” I said, sounding silly, but I didn’t care. After I ran my fingers over his mouth, I said, “You’re mine.”

“I always was. But what about your suicidal tendencies?”

“None of that other stuff matters right now.” I tightened my arms around his neck.

He moved one hand to my lower back. The other rested on my rib cage. “It does if you were serious. Which you were.”

“Temporary insanity. It’s gone now.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I don’t suppose ‘Cross my heart and hope to die’ would be an appropriate response?”

He pulled me closer. “Only if you want me to tie you up next time.”

The thought sounded way more appealing than I let on. “Okay, then I promise.”

Dixie walked in, and I stiffened as though I’d been caught making out with the quarterback during recess.

“What’d I miss this time?” she asked.

“She tie him up,” Sumi said, her voice forlorn. And she had a tiny speckle of drool at the corner of her mouth.

“Janey, would you stop tying up my cook and get back to work?”

After offering Reyes a whispered apology, I bounded past him and out the door, mumbling another apology to the woman who signed my paychecks along the way. All fifty-six dollars’ worth.

By the time I got off work, my body was thrumming with excitement. Reyes was mine. Mine, all mine. I did a little hip twitch and ran to get his jacket. While I would have killed to spend the afternoon with him, there was a whole other place just begging to be broken into. And I had the keys.

“What are you making?” I asked him before heading out. Officially, he was off the clock, too, but he seemed to enjoy the heck out of cooking. And keeping busy in general.

“Posole,” he said, flashing me a crooked grin that dissolved my kneecaps.

His hands were busy chopping stuff, so I rose onto my toes and whispered into his ear. “You are so trying to win my heart through my stomach.”

“Is it working?”

“Hell, yes.” Then I put my mouth squarely on his.

I jumped and whirled around when a plate shattered behind me. Francie was standing there, her mouth open in shock. Embarrassed, she turned and ran out.

“Crap,” I said. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“About what?” he asked, and the fact that he was genuinely confused made me fall down the rabbit hole of crazy-for-Reyes just a little bit farther. “Do you know what you do to people?”

He lifted a powerful shoulder. “I guess. But what are you going to tell her that will make her feel better?”

He had a point.

“I have no idea, but I have to try.”

His expression turned to astonishment. “You’re still so —”

“What?” I asked when he didn’t continue.

“You’re so caring, even when people don’t care about you.”

“Clearly you know next to nothing about me. I bought a Rolex from this guy named Scooter in the Walmart parking lot and it was a fake. I don’t even like him anymore. Seriously.”

A dimple appeared on his right cheek as he tried to fight a grin. “But if he were in trouble and needed your help with something?”

“Oh, well, I might help him. But only if he gave me a refund. Two bucks is two bucks.”

He released a breathy laugh that was part bewilderment and part admiration.

I’d take it.

“I’m sorry, Francie,” I said, walking into the storeroom. “I didn’t mean to just flaunt that in front of you. I wasn’t thinking.”

She scoffed. “Like I care.” She finished applying lip gloss and started out the door. “I could get a date with a different guy every night of the week if I wanted to.”

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