When she looked back over her shoulder, Raze figured that meant that there was a guy outside parking a ride and that he’d be following her in any minute. No guy showed, but she seemed to be looking for somebody.
Raze knew he should have looked away, but he hesitated a second too long and caught her eye. As soon as he did, she came walking his way.
“Hey,” she said. “Do you know a guy named Henry?”
“Got a last name?” Raze managed to ask without implying friendliness on any level.
“Yes. It’s, um…” She struggled to remember the name on the title. “Boyd. I think it’s Boyd.”
“You think it’s Boyd?”
“Look. I just bought a car from the guy. Now it’s sitting in the parking lot and it won’t start.”
Raze was having this conversation while he was continuing to pull beers because Marjorie had called in with some lame excuse, which meant she was fired. For the fourteenth time. Employees couldn't bail on weekends.
“You got any experience slingin' drinks?"
“What?” She looked confused.
“I’m short of help. I can’t look at your car tonight. We’re busy. Since you’re not going anywhere, how about grabbing an apron and helping out? Standard pay.”
“No. I don’t have any experience, um, slinging drinks. I’m not even sure what that is.”
Raze gave up a disgusted sigh. "You good with people?"
To that question she gave a cute little smirk. Raze figured that cute little smirk was a powerful survival characteristic that had served her well. He shook his head, thinking he’d be sorry but knowing he had no choice, and handed her an apron.
She took it, looked at it like she didn't know what to do with it. After a second or two she raised those big blue eyes to his and said, "I don't have a place to stay."
Christ. She was lost.
He looked away so she wouldn't think she had him by the balls and let go with a stream of cuss words - all in his head.
"Do a good job and you can sleep in the studio in the back. For tonight," he said. “Tomorrow morning I’ll take a look at your car.”
She gave Raze a hug like she was grabbing onto a lifesaver, and filled his nose with her rainy green apple feminine shampoo smell. He did a good job of hiding it, but that hug knocked him to his ass. She was just some woman coming off the road. He knew this. But there was something...
He pushed her away. Gently. "Just for tonight."
Raze’s voice was gruff and sounded harsh. Good. She didn’t need to get the idea that his roadhouse was some plushy crash pad.
She managed to get the apron on and looked down at her purse.
“Here. Give me that,” Raze said. “I’ll keep it here behind the bar. Don’t worry. It’ll be safe.” He gave her a tray of empty mugs and a pitcher of beer. “Take this to that table over there.”
“The one in the corner?”
“No. The one with the guy in the red baseball cap.” She turned to go. “And don’t let anybody feel you up or pat your butt.”
She turned back, blue eyes having flown wide. “What?”
Raze wondered if he was looking at Alice down the rabbit hole. She was lost and innocent. Of all the roadhouses in the world, how did she manage to walk into his?
“What’s your name?” Raze said.
She glanced over his shoulder at the bottles lined up on mirrored shelves. “Gin,” she said.
Assuming it was short for Virginia, he said, “Okay. Hustle back here fast as you can.”
Things were happening too fast for her to question. If it wasn’t a twist, it was a turn. She didn’t have a car that ran or the money to buy another. But she did have a place for the night and, if the heavenly smell of onion rings was any indication, at some point she might get fed.
Two hours later requests for food had died down.
Raze motioned her over. “You had dinner?”
“Maybe. But it was a long time ago.”
“Take a break. Go get somethin’ in the back before they start bringin’ down the kitchen.”
She nodded and did exactly that. She introduced herself to a kid named Julio and a relic named James.
“What do ya want?” James asked.
She looked around. “What do you have?”
“Darlin’. You’ve been cartin’ food all night. You know what we have.”
“I guess I mean, what’s easy?”
James looked at Julio, who grinned and shrugged. Then he said, “Gotta love an indecisive woman.”
“Wait a minute! Who are you calling indecisive? I’ll have a cheeseburger medium well. More well than medium. Yellow mustard. Lettuce. Tomato. No onion. Oh, and hickory sauce. Somebody ordered that and it smelled really good. And I’d really like some of those onion rings I’ve been ‘carting’ around all night.”
“You want onion rings instead of fries, but you don’t want onion on your burger,” James observed in a monotone.
“It’s not the same thing.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Is this like hazing?” Her gazed flicked to Julio.
“No. It ain’t like hazin’,” Julio said. “He’s just a cranky old shit who gives everybody a hard time. What do you want to drink? We got soft drinks and root beer in a wood barrel on ice. Over there by the bar. Lemonade. And some orange crush.”
“Yeah. I know,” she said, plopping down. “I just don’t want it bad enough to go get it.”
Julio chuckled. “Tenderfoot. You’ll get used to the routine.”
“No. I won’t,” she said. “This was a one night stand.”
“Okay.”
“Really.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“How much did you make in tips tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you look?”
She looked down at the deep pocket in her apron and stuck her hand in. What she found there was shocking. She supposed she’d been so panicked about trying to keep up with a job she didn’t know how to do and avoid grabby hands, that she’d just stuffed money in the pocket without stopping to think about it.
After she straightened out wadded-up bills, sorted, and counted, there was over two hundred dollars there. She looked up at Julio.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Weekend nights are good. Our customers are generous with tips if you halfway try. And Raze don’t make you share like a lot of places do. You get to keep it. All of it.”
“Damn,” she said.
“Still in a big hurry to get gone?” Julio asked as he set her burger and onion rings in front of her.
After counting three times, she folded the money up and stuck it into her jeans pocket, thinking that she could hide out in Dripping Springs just as easily as someplace else.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “What about the frowny guy?”
“Frowny guy?” Julio’s brow opened up when he realized who she meant. “That’s Raze.” He laughed. “The owner. James,” he turned to the relic who was busy wire brushing the gas grill, “she called Raze frowny guy.”
James just grunted and continued working without looking up.
“Either this is the best burger I’ve ever had in my life,” she said while chewing, “or I’m so hungry I’m no longer a good judge.”
“Yeah. James keeps ‘em comin’ back. That’s why he gets the big bucks. Right, James?”
James grunted. And didn’t look up.
“Hey. Do you know a guy named Henry Boyd?”
Before Julio could answer the double hinge door swung open. “You done yet?” Raze said. “Got customers waitin’.”
“Wow,” she said sarcastically, “I can’t imagine why you were short on help tonight.”
Julio snorted. James stopped what he was doing and looked up. Raze’s features went slack. He was still trying to decide what to say and how to say it when she ducked under his arm on the way back to work.
At one o’clock the b
and quit playing and started breaking down. Raze turned on the jukebox. He always said there was nothing worse for roadhouse business than quiet. When there was no band, there was jukebox. When there was a band, the jukebox came on when they took breaks.
She was so grateful that she’d happened to put on tennis shoes and jeans. Even so, she was falling down tired by the time the door was locked and everybody was gone except for herself and frowny guy.
“You got some stuff with you? Stuff you need to get for the night?”
“Um, yes.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you out there.” Raze reached under the bar, retrieved the purse that was stowed there earlier, and handed it to her.
In silence they walked to the lone car left in the parking lot. When they reached it, he said, “Give me your key.”
She fished the key out of her purse and handed it over. He had to adjust the seat for long legs before he could slide behind the wheel, but when he did, one twist of the key in the ignition and the car purred to life like a million dollar Formula One racer.
“Seems okay to me,” Raze said.
She had no explanation. “I don’t know how… Well, thanks then. I guess I’ll be on my way.”
“You will not be on your way.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I will.”
“Where you gonna go at two thirty in the damn mornin’? It’s not the Vegas strip. It’s Dripping Springs.”
He had a point.
“Well…”
“Get in. I’ll drive you around to the studio. You can get a good night’s sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, if you want to be on your way, nice knowin’ ya. If you want a job, we’ll talk.”
“Okay.”
She got in on the passenger side and one minute later they were stopped at the door of the studio.
“I live in that house right over there.” He pointed. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her that. It just seemed like the thing to say at the time.
He unlocked the studio, switched on the lights, set her duffel down, and waited while she looked around.
It was neat. Functional. Even nice, if a bit… teenagerish? Like an adolescent had once lived there. She spotted a photograph of a high school football team and concluded that she was looking at frowny guy’s history.
She bent over and squinted to try and pick him out of the photo and, yes, there he was in the center of the back row, probably because of his tall frame, handsome boyish features free of frown. He was standing next to a heartthrob who was about the same height, who looked to be the essence of bad boy walking. And he was smiling.
So you didn’t always wear a permafrown. Wonder what happened to you, frowny guy.
“It’s clean,” he said, watching her, trying to see the studio through her eyes and wondering what she was thinking.
She nodded. “Thank you. This is, um, nice of you.”
Raze didn’t want her thinking that he was a soft touch. “Nothin’ nice about it. I needed help tonight. You showed up. Providence. So, if you’re good, I’ll be goin’.” When she didn’t respond, he pressed further. “You good?”
“Yes. It’s just that. That doesn’t look like much of a lock.”
He turned toward the studio door. She was right. It wasn’t much of a lock. He’d never had cause to give that any thought. His frown deepened.
“You worried?”
“I… Maybe.”
“Okay.” He picked up her duffel. “Come on.”
“Wait. Where are we going?”
“My house. You can sleep there. I’ll sleep here tonight. And trust me, my house is the safest place you’ll ever sleep.”
“It is? I mean, no. I don’t want to put you out of your own house.” She was trying to slow things down, but learning that Raze was a force of nature who made decisions fast, acted fast, and nothing stood in his way. She was rushing to keep up with him as he headed toward his house. Since he was carrying everything she owned in the world, she had no choice but to follow the duffel.
“You’re not. This is my house, too.” He stopped abruptly at his door and put the duffel down. When he lowered his voice and said, “Come here,” she felt an unwelcome but pleasant shudder travel through her body.
“Why?”
“’Cause you’re about to meet the reason why this is the safest place for miles around.”
He unlocked his door, cracked it open and said, “Got company, Bless.”
He opened the door further and stepped in to greet a gorgeous, if huge, German Shepherd, who was ecstatic to see frowny guy, but also curious enough about the woman to keep her focus trained on the guest.
“This is my dog.”
“I see that.”
“She’s special.”
“And really, really, really big.”
“She won’t hurt you. At least not now that I’ve introduced you.”
“That’s comforting.”
“She’s extremely protective,” Raze said. She followed him to the bedroom since that was where her duffel was going. “Part instinct. Part training. You can sleep sound. Once I leave and close this door, nobody’s comin’ in here tonight besides me.” That didn’t come out the way he intended. So to clarify, he added, “And I won’t be back until morning. Slept on the sheets once, but I’d had a shower. So. They’re fresh enough. Hope that’s okay.”
Raze knew the place was clean and orderly. He knew the difference between clean, orderly, and not thanks to time in the service. He had a service that came once a week to deep clean, but he kept the place presentable.
“I don’t really feel right about this.”
“Look. Long night. We’re tired. Too tired to argue. Go to bed. I’m doin’ the same.” And with that he walked out and left Clover alone with Bless.
The dog looked at her with expectation. Waiting to see what she’d do next?
“I guess I’m going to bed now. If that’s okay?” she said to the dog. Bless climbed onto the loveseat that sat against the wall. “Is that where you sleep?” Bless put her head down on her paws. “I take that as a yes.” She glanced toward what appeared to be a half bath, shower only, attached to the bedroom. “I’m just going to get my stuff and brush my teeth.”
She opened her duffel, but decided she was too tired to brush teeth. She was too tired to change clothes as well. So she took off her shoes and her jeans and decided to sleep the way she was.
The second her head hit the pillow she was overwhelmed by frowny guy’s scent. Fortunately it was a nice mix of Old Spice and clean masculine musk.
She turned on her side facing the dog and thought that a more prudent person would be terrified of going to sleep a couple of yards away from a giant wolf dog who could tear her throat out with one lunge. How did she know the dog wasn’t hormonal? Did dogs suffer from PMS? Or jealousy?
As if Bless could read her mind, she climbed off the loveseat, padded over, put her chin on the bed, and wagged her tail. Clover reached out and ran her hand over the silky head. “Wow. Your hair is amazing. Like the perfect PH balance. What do you use?”
Bless turned and climbed back onto her bed then watched as Clover fell into an exhausted sleep.
CHAPTER Six THE GHOST IN THE MACHINE
The next time Clover opened her eyes, there was no dog on the loveseat, light streaming in between blinds, and the smell of coffee brewing. Since the bedroom door had been left open, she could hear the occasional sound of a deep voice talking quietly. She rolled over the other direction and looked at the bedside clock. Eleven forty-five.
She’d slept like the dead. But amazingly, felt good. She considered that, maybe the exercise of running tables at a roadhouse had been good for her after days of sedentary travel. After closing the bedroom door and gathering things from her duffel, she took a too-hot shower that relaxed sore muscles in the most delicious way, moisturized her body head to toe, and pulled her damp hair back into a braid at the nape of her neck.
After packing up all her things and carefully making the
bed, she emerged looking fresh and girl-next-door au naturel, dragging her duffel behind her.
Raze was sitting at the dinette. He hoped that stray girl didn’t notice his eyes widen when she stepped into the kitchen looking supremely edible. Unconsciously he’d taken to thinking of her as ‘stray girl’ because it was so much less personal than calling her by name. He couldn’t possibly form an attachment to someone he thought of as stray. Even if she was more delicious than a display of handcrafted gelato garnished with fresh fruit under a glass display.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that she looked even better in the light of day. If that was possible. No makeup. No pretense. No explanation as to why a woman like her was buying a beater in a town like Dripping Springs. Traveling alone and tight lipped about it. For a woman. Most women he knew would have already attempted to narrate their entire biographies peppered with details of all their personal business that he really did not want to know.
He sat quietly while Bless went over to greet Clover wagging her tail. Clover smiled, “Good morning, you,” and gave the dog an affectionate rub down her back. She then turned her attention to Raze. “Good morning.”
“Mornin’,” he said. “Got coffee. Got breakfast burritos from Grenados.” He shoved a white paper bag in her direction.
“Thank you.” She looked toward the door. “I really should be going. This has been incredibly generous of you. And I slept really good.” She smiled. “Made some money last night. Which will be helpful.”
He kicked the chair out. “Sit. You have to have breakfast.”
She hesitated, looking from Raze to the chair to the coffee pot to the white paper sack. Everything looked good. Including frowny guy. In spite of the frown.
“Well, I…”
“Don’t have cream, but I do have sugar.” He watched her eyes go to the coffee pot again. He got up, pulled a mug out of the cabinet and poured a cup, deciding not to take no for an answer. “You want sugar?”
She bit her bottom lip for half a second in indecision before saying, “Yes. Please.”
Roadhouse (Sons of Sanctuary MC, Austin, Texas Book 5) Page 5