Chapter 13

Thirteen

Roc

“You are an idiot,” I told myself as I walked from the end of the motel with Harlowe’s request for a cheeseburger—hold the mayo—and fries fresh in my mind. Of course, she wanted to give me her order. She wasn’t calling me back to tell me to stay with her. She was calling me back because I was so distracted I’d almost left to get dinner without asking what she wanted.

I pulled my hair from its topknot and shook it out as I let loose a groan. What was wrong with me? I’d been off since she’d opened the door and I’d realized that she wasn’t some child star. I hadn’t been mentally prepared for her to be an adult or for her to be stunning. But more than stunning, she made my body react in ways I never had to a woman.

It’s been too long, I thought. That’s the problem.

“You’ve shut yourself away from the world and thrown yourself into work, and this is what happens when you try to reenter.”

I was glad no one was nearby to hear me scold myself, even though the fact that the motel was virtually deserted wasn’t reassuring. Aside from a car parked near the front of the long strip of a building, there was no other sign that anyone inhabited the rooms at The Velvet Cloak. Even if most were being renovated, I doubted they ever boasted full occupancy.

As I passed the office, a quick glance told me it was empty. No reason for the attendant to stay at the desk when the chance of walk-ins was so low. Besides, he’d rented his last room to us. Thankfully, the diner wasn’t as devoid of patrons.

The neon sign that flickered over the peaked-roof building with windows wrapped around three sides proclaimed that The Last Stop Diner had the world’s best pie. It didn’t say what kind of pie, but I suspected it didn’t matter.

When I pushed through the glass door to enter, I was met by a brightly lit, clear case filled with slices of pie rotating slowly as if they were brand new models in a car show. The fluffy white toppings and lattice crusts did make my mouth water, but I wasn’t there to sample pies. I breathed in the pungent scent of fried chicken and grilled meat that overpowered even the impressive display of desserts.

A waitress with a poofy blonde hairdo that looked shellacked into place leaned against a wooden hostess stand. She straightened when she saw me, her gaze roaming across my skin and then taking in my size before she tilted her head at me. “We don’t get many of your kind around here.”

I flinched but made sure not to show my reaction. The flat farmland we’d been driving through wasn’t the kind of place that would attract orcs. Traditionally, we kept to mountainous areas. Those of us who’d left the hills and had adapted to human society found safety in cities.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, holding up a hand. “I don’t have a problem with anyone,” she eyed me, “especially not if all orcs looked like you.”

“Settle down, Tracy.”

I followed the voice to see a wiry man with dark skin standing in the opening to the kitchen behind the counter.

He grinned at me. “Don’t mind her. Come on in and take a seat anywhere.”

Tracy smiled and handed me a plastic menu then shot the cook a narrowed-eye glare.

I walked to the counter and sat on one of the few red leather stools that didn’t have rips in the seat. The only other patron at the long counter was all the way on the other end, and he nodded at me before turning his attention back to his plate that looked smothered in gravy. “I’d like to order some food to go.”

Tracy came around to the other side of the counter. “You want some water or coffee while you wait?”

I started to say no, but then realized I wouldn’t mind a caffeine boost. I wasn’t crazy about falling asleep in the motel and leaving Harlowe unguarded, but the weight of the day was already making my brain and body sluggish. “Coffee, please.”

She plunked a white mug on the counter and poured a steaming stream of black coffee into it, sliding a dish of packaged creamers toward me. “You know what you want, sugar?”

I glanced at the menu long enough to confirm that they had burgers and ordered two cheeseburgers with fries on the side.

“Good choice,” the waitress scribbled my order onto her pad and thrust it toward the cook, who was already moving around his kitchen to prep my order. “Our burgers are almost as good as our pies. You sure you don’t want to try a slice of our coconut cream pie?”

My stomach made a low growling sound that answered for me. I was so hungry that I could eat pie and still put away the burger with no problem, even if I shouldn’t. “Why not?”

Tracy winked at me as she swished her way to the glass pie case. I took the chance to pull out my phone and read the latest texts from Harlowe’s contact at the studio who arranged the second plane, which we’d missed. They were giving up on flying her to the shoot since it cost them when we’d missed the last one. They could send a car to get us, but it wouldn’t arrive until the morning.

Then I scanned Jack’s texts. His parental alarm came through in his series of rapid-fire questions about Harlowe, which I’d patiently answered, but he also thanked me for keeping her safe.

I knew you were the best one for the job, Roc. I knew Harlowe was safe with you.

I forced myself to shove my phone back in my pocket. My battery was dangerously low, and what else could I say? I wasn’t going to tell Jack that our truck had broken down. I wasn’t going to tell him that we were spending the night in a cheesy, roadside motel. I wasn’t going to tell him that we’d been given the honeymoon suite with a single bed. And I absolutely wasn’t going to tell him that I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I wanted to do to Harlowe in that red-satin bed.

A slice of pie topped with fluffy whipped cream appeared in front of me, and when I glanced up, the waitress gave me another wink. “Enjoy.”

I used the side of the slightly dented fork to cut the tip of the wedge, sizing up the precariously tall layer of coconut cream and whipped topping before angling it into my mouth. I closed my eyes as I swallowed, savoring the creamy sweetness. I might have been starving, but it also might have been the best pie in the world. At the very least, it was a distraction from what awaited me back in the motel room.

I might not be able to resist the temptation of sugar, but when it came to the temptation of Harlowe, I had no choice but to resist.