by Sarah Hegger
“I suppose so.” Tiffany squirmed in her seat. It infuriated her father when she did the number thing out loud. It was easier to just pretend it was all about calories.
“I think I’d prefer not to know. But what the hell.” Thomas grinned. “I think I’ll join him. You?”
“I’ll have the garden salad.” Pursing her thin mouth, the waitress jotted it down on her notepad. “With no dressing and no croutons.”
“How many calories?” Thomas leaned his elbows on the table. Challenge gleamed in his eyes. He thought he had her beat, but he’d have to do a whole lot better than that.
“Twelve per cup, so around thirty-three for the bowl. It would’ve been eleven calories per cup, but this one has carrots and tomatoes in it.”
“Right.” He shook his head.
She wished she could work out what he was thinking. “What?”
“You know the calorie count of everything you eat?”
“Sure.” Tiffany shrugged. She also knew the diner had 30 four-seater tables and 3 six-seaters tucked in the three available corners. The last corner led to the bathroom. Of the possible 138 diners, the diner was currently at about 78 percent capacity.
“And you can add them up, just like that?”
“Yes.”
He grunted and crossed his hands on the table in front of them. It brought him right onto her half of the table. It didn’t seem to bother him that he was in her space. It bothered her, though. There was too much of him. She hadn’t missed the way the waitress had eyed him up as if he were an ice cream cone, either.
“So you look at menus and count the calories?”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. And there you had it. He might have spent all that time in the truck talking about pi, but at the end of the day he was the same as everyone else. It was her fault for thinking he might possibly be different. See something different in her. But if he wanted to talk about calories with the pretty moron, so be it. “Listen, buddy.” She did some leaning of her own. “You don’t think I fit into these skinny jeans by eating a burger and fries, do you? Because I have news for you, if you think girls slip into a size two with no effort, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
“Really.” The devil danced in his blue eyes as he brought his face closer to hers.
Tiffany almost backed off, but didn’t want to give up that much ground.
“If you think men care as much about how you get into those jeans as how to get you out of them, then you’re not as smart as you think you are.”
Tiffany snapped back into her seat and glared at him. “You’re a pig.”
“No, I’m honest.” He smirked.
Her irritation seemed to bounce right off him as he looked around the diner with interest. “I don’t get you.”
He jerked his head back. “There’s really not that much to get.” He spread his arms out. “What you see is what you get. WYSIWYG.”
“You’re such a geek.” But it made her smile.
“I could deny it, but why bother.” He sat back in the booth and folded his arms over his chest. “But that wasn’t what I was getting at before. I was thinking it’s pretty amazing that you manage to remember all those numbers and add them up like that. That’s impressive.”
“Anyone can add up numbers.” This subject made her uncomfortable. The number thing was her secret.
“Not that fast.” He seemed sincere with blue eyes staring back at her, clear and readable.
She looked a little closer. Maybe he was for real. “I bet you can.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’m the shit when it comes to math, but I can’t total a whole bunch of numbers in my head that quickly. I don’t think I could remember all those calories, either.”
Tiffany pursed her lips. He didn’t seem to be packing any sort of hidden meaning. “For real?”
“Yeah. And I made the dean’s list for math at college.” He gave her one of his grins.
Those lips needed a permit for concealed weapons. Even now, her answering smile wanted to break free. She didn’t quite know what to say. All her life people had told her she was pretty. A childhood of modeling and beauty pageants had made sure she knew that. This was better, though. Being smart was something nobody, not even Ryan, said about her.
The waitress brought their cutlery and set it down in a wire tray of condiments. Ketchup, mustard, fry sauce, salt and pepper. Ketchup in the wrong place.
Thomas leaned over and swapped the mustard and ketchup bottles so the bottles ranged neatly from tallest to shortest. Looked like she wasn’t the only person who liked things to be organized correctly. The condiments looked so much better this way.
“I was thinking,” he said, unwrapping his cutlery and placing the fork on one side of his plastic place mat and the knife on the other. “We should team up.”
“Team up?”
“As in we both have a common purpose, which is to find Luke.”
She got where he was headed with this, but needed to hear him spell out the details. Riding with Thomas might solve most of her problems. “Okay.”
“Driving the Miura doesn’t seem to be the best plan, given what’s happened.” He didn’t know how far she still had to go. Still, she was listening and she nodded for him to continue. “You gotta admit, you’ll be far more comfortable in my truck.”
His easy smile didn’t fool her. Tension radiated from the stiff line of his shoulders. He had nearly as much invested in finding Luke as she did. Teaming up made sense, and she hadn’t given much thought to what she would do when the Miura was repaired. This breakdown had already cut into her schedule. Another mishap and Thomas Hunter might not be there to rescue her. It seemed a logical solution. Except, and this was a kicker, he was a stranger.
“Look”—he leaned forward on his forearms—“I know you don’t know me, and the following thing looked bad. I told you I had to find Luke, and I do. My company is going under without that survey. I’ve put my heart and soul, not to mention my life savings, into my company succeeding. You know where Luke is, or at least Dakota does, and I have the means to get you there.”
She aligned the condiment tray in the center of the table as she chewed it over. He seemed a straight-up sort of guy, and only God and the mechanic knew how long she’d be stuck there waiting for the car. “I have to wait for the Miura to be repaired.”
“Then I’ll wait with you,” he said. “I’m sure I can rent a trailer from somewhere. I spotted one behind the repair shop. We load the Miura on the trailer and tow it to wherever it is we’re going.”
“Okay.” That did sound reasonable. She had a much better chance of delivering the Miura in mint condition if they towed it. A small voice whispered that maybe spending so much time with Thomas Hunter wasn’t the best idea. Already, she was starting to like him a bit too much. Add the niceness of him, the way he made her feel comfortable around him, and the hot geek thing together, and you might have trouble. “But no weird shit.”
“Like?” Up went an eyebrow.
Heat crawled up her cheeks.
“You mean like hitting on you?” His eyes twinkled at her. “I—”
Straightening in his seat, he locked his gaze on something behind her.
“What is it?” Tiffany peered through the lettering of the daily special on the window into the street. A woman marched a lagging set of children behind her and disappeared into the pharmacy.
Thomas nodded to a little way down on the opposite side of the street. “Over there.”
It looked like a dress shop to her. Not the sort of dress shop she was going to spend any time in. Two men stood in front of the dress shop. Just two guys dressed in jeans and tees like everybody else. One of them smoked while the other thumbed a smartphone. “What am I looking at?”
“Those two guys.” Thomas frowned and stared harder. “Do you know them?”
“Those two?” They looked the same as any of the other people who milled around the town. “What about them?”
> “Nothing.” Thomas shrugged. “I need those one thousand six hundred and sixty calories.”
“One thousand seven hundred and seventy,” Tiffany said, still looking out the window. All she saw was two men hanging out.
“Do we have a deal?” One huge hand stretched across the table toward her. “Until we find Luke, and then you never have to see me again. Unless you want to.”
Tiffany slid her hand into his, hoping like hell she was doing the right thing. She had that niggling feeling that she was agreeing to a whole lot more. “Deal.”
Chapter Eleven
The tired signpost to the A1 motel didn’t exactly fill Tiffany with confidence. Neither did the fact that it took at least another three signposts before they pulled into a massive parking lot. The size of the parking lot, far too large for the two-story block of rooms, was explained by four large rigs at the far end. Sun glared off the huge, silent cabs. Great, a trucker motel.
On the plus side, Thomas went into the reception and came out again a few minutes later looking triumphant. He tossed a key over at Dakota. The teen snatched it out of the air, grabbed his backpack, and disappeared through a blue door marked 2E.
Tiffany waited for her key. A shower sounded like the closest thing to heaven right now. About three inches of road dust coated her skin.
Thomas sauntered over to where she stood beside his truck. He came a little closer and then some more. The gleam in his eyes put her on high alert.
Tiffany didn’t realize she’d backed up until the car warmed the back of her shirt.
Thomas kept coming until the heat from him skittered over her skin and tightened low in her belly. She dropped her head back to maintain eye contact. Her knees got a bit iffy and she leaned into the solid truck.
He caged her between his hands on either side of her shoulders. His voice, husky with naughty promises, stroked across her skin. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” Her voice shook slightly. She should shove him off her. Her brain sent the message, but it got lost in translation and melted in the slow burn coiling up from inside.
His clear blue gaze, suddenly smoky and sexy, sent an unmistakable message.
Yes, please! Her nipples leaped to instant attention. She wanted to cross her arms over her breasts, but he was too close.
“I have our key.” Dangling from his large finger was a key attached to a card with the lettering 2F.
Spit dried in her mouth. “What?”
“You, me, a motel room.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Fuck. See, this was what happened when you found yourself in the middle of nowhere with a strange man. All that nice had gotten her to lower her guard. It took her a moment to realize he’d pulled away from her. A huge, shit-eating grin split his face. She glared up at him and tried to get her breath under control. Her heart still leaped around her chest. “What the hell was that?”
He laughed even harder. “You should have seen your face.”
Her knee twitched, ready to make a painful point in a sucker shot, straight to the source of the problem.
He held out the key and dropped it. “Payback.”
“For what?” Tiffany scrambled and snatched it out of the air. Embarrassment made her cheeks flame hot. He’d got her good. And her libido had been so totally on board with the idea. Damn, where was a hole to crawl into when you needed one?
Raising his voice to falsetto, he batted his lashes at her. “I’m so desperate. Please help little ole me.” The grin took over again. “Unless, of course, you were feeling grateful enough for the rescue …”
“In your dreams.” She swiveled and marched over to her own blue door.
“You have no idea.” He sauntered around to the back of the truck, flipped open the hatch, and grabbed her bags. “Do you need all of these?”
“Of course.” She smiled sweetly at him. Let him haul those heavy bags around. A small lesson in what happened when you messed with Tiffany. “All four of them.”
Except her petty revenge didn’t work out so well, as he effortlessly brought them into her room and stacked them inside the door in a mouth-drying flex and bunch of muscle under his tee. The door shut behind him.
Tiffany sat on the edge of one of the two double beds and toed off her shoes. Blue and green floral comforters that must have been pretty cheerful back in the eighties covered both beds. A television perched in front of the mirror atop a scarred dresser. The room smelled slightly of lemon detergent. She wriggled her tired, swollen feet in relief on the rough carpet. At least it looked clean.
She dragged her purse onto the bed beside her and pulled out her book. All the stuff Thomas had told her had opened up a whole world of things to explore. First things first, though. Checking her phone, she saw three missed calls from her father. Nothing from Ryan. What the hell? Would one phone call after the way they’d left things the other night be too much to ask? Except maybe Ryan didn’t see anything wrong with how they’d left things. She could break and call him. Nope. If he wanted to talk to her, he could call her. Daddy was a different problem. She hit the Call Back icon.
“Princess?” His hot chocolate voice greeted her.
“Hey, Daddy, I see you called.”
“Where are you, Princess? I was expecting a call from you first thing this morning.”
“I left a message.” Lying to him felt wrong, disloyal, but she’d been working on her story since she left Chicago. “I needed to get away for a day or two.”
“Really?” His voice jumped to attention. “You’re upset.”
She wriggled her toes into the carpet and tried to find the right words. “You took me by surprise at dinner. It wasn’t what I was expecting.”
There was a momentary pause. “Ryan and I realize that, Princess, but it had to be said.”
Did it? Through the sheers on the window she could see the outline of Thomas’s truck. Maybe it did. It had taken that much to get her to take the car back. Still, the words wouldn’t come to agree with him.
“Princess,” her father said when she didn’t respond.
Her heart dropped to the waistband of her jeans. She knew that voice. Daddy was about to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.
“Now, I know you’re not going to want to hear this.” Was she a genius or what? “But Ryan spoke to me about this before we set up that dinner. He has a point, otherwise I would never have agreed to it. The repairs to that ridiculous car are merely a symptom of a bigger problem. I haven’t said anything before because I thought there would come a point when you would sell the car and move on. But it’s been seven years, Princess. Don’t you think that’s enough time?”
Guilt writhed inside her. Daddy had no idea what she was hiding from him. And he would be so upset. Her mind skewed into the past.
Her lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her little legs only reaching halfway down her big, big bed. And that sound. The soft rise and fall of someone crying. A man crying. Crying as if he would never feel whole again. Daddy.
“My Princess, it’s only you and I now.”
“Now, I realize you’re probably disappointed.” Tiffany shut the image out and concentrated on her father’s voice. “In time, you’ll come to see Ryan and I are right about this. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and it’s hard to make it work at the best of times. You both need to go into it without reservations and dragging baggage from the past.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said, because he expected it. Daddy was right most of the time. “I just need a little time to think things over.”
“Princess.” His bedtime-story voice smoothed and settled deep, deep inside her. “There’s nothing to think about. Put this behind you so you can move on.”
“Okay.” She knew when she was beat.
“Promise me, Princess.”
“I promise.” Her voice clogged in her throat. She’d been his princess since her mother died. He’d been so alone in those first months, so desperately sad, and the only thing that brok
e through the unbearable sadness was his princess. Sometimes, though, the princess felt like it had her by the throat, slowly choking the life out of her.
“That’s my girl.” She heard the smile in his voice. “If you need a bit of time, take it. I know you’ll come to see all of this the right way. Ryan is a good man. He cares about you and your future. He will make you a great husband.”
The mirror behind the television reflected her face back at her. She looked a mess. Her hair hung limp and her makeup was nearly all gone. She stared at herself as the steady drone of Daddy listing Ryan’s fine points barely registered. It was weird—she knew everything he said was right, but the girl staring back at her didn’t look so certain. Tiffany dropped her stare.
Of course she was sure. God, the sole reason she was sitting in a trucker’s motel in Utah was because she’d ignored her father’s advice. If she’d listened when he’d told her Luke was no good for her, she wouldn’t be there right now. Lying to her father.
“You’re right, Daddy,” she said when he stopped talking. “I’ll take a day or two to relax and then we can celebrate.”
“Good girl.” His tone warmed the small, cold place inside her.
“I have to go,” she said. “I have a yoga class now.”
“Don’t stay away too long.” Her father chuckled. “You know I miss my princess when she’s not around.”
“Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, Princess. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible.”
She ended the call and put her phone down. Time to put the girl in the mirror to rights. A shower, a nourishing face-mask, styled hair, and the right Tiffany reappeared. Slipping into a pair of lounging pants and a camisole, she grabbed her iPad and her book.
“Tiffany.” Thomas tapped on the door. “Dakota and I are going to have a look around and then get something to eat. Do you want to come?”
She stared at the door in amazement. They just ate a couple of hours ago. “No, thank you,” she called back. “I think I’ll get an early night.”
The lock on her book slid open and she found a blank page. This was almost the best moment, a blank page filled with endless possibilities. She slid the pen free of its holder. Where to start? 3.14159265359, she wrote. Pi. Twenty-two over seven, she jotted down beside it. Next, she carefully drew a circle. Then she went to her iPad and read a bit further than she had before. Thomas had talked about this, and it made sense. Constant. She wrote the word in her book just outside her circle and then—best of all—a formula: C = π · d = 2 π · r