Blush(26)

Mia shook her head. “Charming.”

“Isn’t she, though?” Cruz absently shoved a shiny hank of dark hair off his face. It reached his shoulders but was clean and healthy-looking, and extremely touchable. Mia curled her fingers on her lap. “I’ll keep an eye on Latour,” he said, taking a pen out of his pocket. “Make sure he doesn’t become a problem.”

Oh, God. That look could make a woman’s underwear vaporize. Mia crossed her bare legs under the table, shifting in her seat as she squeezed her thighs together to mitigate the throbbing ache. The pressure just made the ache worse. What would he do if she grabbed him by the hand, hauled his ass out of the diner, and suggested parking the truck in a nearby alley so she could get number eleven, Sex in public, out of the way?

Mia thought of something the woman had mentioned earlier. “Who or what is the ‘Gracie’s’ you checked out of?” Some sexy blonde, she bet. Feeling a pinch that couldn’t possible be jealousy, more likely hunger pangs.

He plucked a paper napkin out of the holder and doodled down as he talked. “My truck broke down yesterday. Had to have a place to stay while it was being repaired. Gracie’s is the local B and B. Expensive. The bed in the camper will do me while I’m working out at your place.”

Mia bit her tongue before offering that he could do her, in her bed, for a few days. “There’s a bathroom downstairs; you’re welcome to use it—whenever.”

“Yeah, thanks, I was going to ask.”

Mia thought of being in bed and hearing him downstairs, naked in the shower. Dear God, she was turning into a sex maniac.

She watched his hand as it moved quickly over the paper napkin. He wasn’t writing, he was drawing. “Can I see?”

Wordlessly he handed it over. He’d sketched in incredibly few pen strokes a squinty-eyed, overweight rat with bouffant hair and a sly smile. “The likeness is amazing.” Mia smiled. “You could do sketches like this for a living.”

“It’s just a hobby.”

“May I keep it?”

He shrugged. “Never know when you might need to mop up a spill.”

“You’re being too modest. You have a real talent. Have you always been interested in art?”

“That isn’t art, but yeah. I guess. I like some stuff I’ve seen, hate others. Art’s subjective, isn’t it?”

“It is. My cousin likes strange shapes and angles and what I call ‘angry’ paintings with bold slashes of bloody red and oddly placed eyeballs.” Thinking of Todd made her miss him. She would’ve enjoyed sharing the Louisiana experience with him, though he would’ve gotten hives at Sandy’s coffee shop. “I tend to go for color and texture. But I’m not a connoisseur by a long shot. I just like what I like.”

“Elvis on black velvet?”

Mia laughed. “I’m more into dogs playing cards.”

He almost smiled. His lips didn’t curve, but his eyes lit up in amusement. “To each her own.”

“Ready to order?” the waitress asked, pouring coffee. When they said they needed a minute, she said she’d get back to them, then scurried back to her vantage point with the cook and the owner, who glared at them while she talked on her cell phone.

“Nice to know I wasn’t singled out.” Mia straightened her silverware with a rueful smile. “Sandy doesn’t like you either.”

“She hasn’t liked anyone since her boyfriend got her pregnant with quadruplets, then ran off with the local cheerleader in 1962.”

“I guess Te Jean told you that, huh?” Mia laughed at his deadpan delivery. He made not smiling sexy. “Let’s order before she poisons our food.”

Cruz called the waitress back and they ordered burgers. He spread his arms out across the back of the banquet seat, perfectly relaxed. And why shouldn’t he be? He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, nor was he hiding in plain sight.

Mia mimicked his earlier pose, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward. She wanted to touch him so badly she could feel the nerve endings in her fingertips prickle with anticipation. “I’ve never lived in a small town, have you?” That was non-incendiary, wasn’t it?

“No, and you can see why. Everyone is in everyone else’s business.”

It stunned Mia to realize that while she felt as taut as a bowstring just looking at him sitting across from her, three feet away, he was as relaxed as one of Blush’s sexy male models, laid out like a buffet to sell cologne.

“What made you chose Bayou Cheniere to put down roots?” he asked, clearly in no hurry to return to the house to fix the roof.