Rock Chick Redemption
Page 82

It sounded f**king great.
Jeez.
I was definitely in trouble. In fact I was so in trouble, you could tattoo it on me.
I gave up.
Temporarily.
“I’m going to Tod and Stevie’s tonight. Emergency Wedding Summit and then Tod’s helping me with an outfit for Daisy’s party.”
His body started shaking and I realized, belatedly, he was enjoying this. He actual y thought this was fun. My stomach was tied in knots and Hank was entertained.
“How exactly were you thinkin’ you were going to manage to break up with me and then go back to Chicago when you have no car, a car ful of your shit is in my house and you’ve got a more active social life in Denver than I have?” he asked.
“They’re your friends,” I snapped.
“Too late, sweetheart, you can’t scrape them off either.
Although, it would be amusing to watch you try.” Good grief.
Whatever.
Time to cut my losses.
“Don’t you have to get to work?” I asked, sounding uppity.
“Yeah,” he said.
He gave me a light kiss but the look in his eyes told me he’d have liked to have done more.
He slid me back to my seat and I got out and charged ahead. He caught up with me and grabbed my hand.
I sighed.
We walked into Fortnum’s hand in hand and it was packed.
Hank tensed, did a scan of the crowd, relaxed when he decided it was safe, yanked my arm so I fel into him and he kissed me, deep but swift.
Then he grinned down at me with approval while I stared up at him, my body leaning into his, my head completely dizzy.
Then he was gone.
* * * * *
It was a little after noon when she walked in. I wouldn’t have noticed her if she wasn’t looking around in hopeful expectation. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, she was. But there was just nothing about her that made you keep looking at her once you first noticed her. She was wearing a long sleeved, v-necked, blue t-shirt, jeans and boots. She had strawberry blonde hair, peaches and cream skin and warm, brown eyes.
As I’d done while people-watching many times before, I mental y redesigned her outfit so that it would pack a bigger punch, get her noticed, give her some flair. Better belt, definitely. A funky necklace would help. Some cle**age for certain. And a different pair of jeans; ones that weren’t utilitarian but that made a jeans-like fashion statement. She had a great figure and she needed to learn to work it.
She was looking at Uncle Tex (or, kind of staring at him in horror), then she caught my eye, decided I was the safer bet for whatever was on her mind, walked up to me and smiled.
“Hi. Do you work here?” she asked.
“I do today,” I answered, smiling back.
I was sitting behind the book counter.
When Hank dropped me off, Indy, Uncle Tex and Jet were the only ones working. The place was jammed, there were empty coffee cups everywhere. They weren’t even keeping up with the crowd and had no time to clean up. I gathered the dirty dishes and started washing, happy to have something to take my mind off my thoughts.
Not that I could have thought anything, Lynyrd Skynyrd’s
“Gimme Three Steps” was blaring from the radio when I hit the sink and Skynyrd played for the next two hours.
Once the crowd died down, Indy gave me a quick training session on the book counter cash register (Uncle Tex was strictly espresso and didn’t do book sales) so she and Jet could go see Jet’s Dad in the hospital. They were going to swing by and get us some lunch on the way back.
The girl looked to Tex, then back to me.
“Does India Savage stil own this store?” she asked.
“Yep. You looking for her?” I answered.
She blushed and her eyes slid away. “Actual y…” she hesitated then looked back at me, “I’m looking for a friend of hers. Hank Nightingale. Does he come in here?” I stared at her.
Holy cow.
I felt something twist inside me, something painful.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Hank comes in here. Do you know him?”
“We, um… dated awhile back. Then, I moved to New Mexico. Now I’ve moved back and I thought I’d look him up.
He and Indy, wel you know, they’re close,” her voice trailed away and then she brightened with determination. “I’m Beth,” she introduced herself.
“Roxie,” I replied.
She looked at me and her eyes did a quick sweep. I was sitting on a stool, my legs crossed and a bit away from the counter, leaning my elbows on it. I was wearing a fitted, boat-necked, black sweater and worn-out, vintage Levi’s. I had an intricate, chrome, mesh choker around my neck and a matching wide bracelet over my sweater at the wrist and round-toed, black suede, platform wedges with kickass magenta binding and sling-back strap.
“Have you worked here very long?” she asked.
“I don’t real y work here, I’m fil ing in.” I felt badly for her. This couldn’t be easy and she didn’t even know I was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend. I didn’t know how to tel her or even if I should. I decided I shouldn’t, especial y considering the current circumstances.
“Listen,” I said. “Do you want me to give Hank a message?”
“Um, yeah. Could you tel him –”
The bel over the door went, she turned, I looked over and we both saw Hank walk in.
Damn.
His timing was shit.
As he walked in, it hit me even more than normal y how good he looked. Jeans that fit so wel , they might be il egal in a few states. Gun and badge on a kil er, dark brown belt with a heavy, matte silver buckle. An olive brown sweater with half zip and a high col ar, the hem tucked in behind the belt, untucked around the rest of his waist, sleeves shoved up his forearms.
He could have been in a f**king catalogue and he didn’t have three stylists to make him look that way, it came natural y.
His eyes were on me, warm and lazy, the edges of his lips turned up in a sexy smile.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Hank –” I said but it came out quiet and croaky.
He rounded the counter as I cleared my throat. “Hank,” I said, louder this time but he was there. I’d come away from the counter and tilted my head up to look at him and, even though Beth was standing there, and before I could stop him, he wrapped his hand round the back of my head and he gave me a light kiss.
He hadn’t even looked at her.
“Thought I’d take you to lunch,” he said softly, his eyes looking in mine, his hand stil around my head. He’d moved away barely an inch.