"Looks like it," he said.
A car pulled up then. Osh leaned over and spoke to the driver before it pulled away again.
Alarmed, I asked, "Is he selling drugs?"
"Nah, I think he's a male prostitute."
I gasped. Placed a hand over my heart. He was so young. And absolutely stunning. He had his whole life ahead of him. Why?
"It's okay," Garrett said. "He's been a whore for a long time."
My heart broke until I realized he was laughing softly.
I glared at him. "Are you teasing me?"
"Not at all. He's a manwhore. Ask him."
After crossing my arms, I said, "He's just a baby."
"Baby, my ass."
"How well do you know him?"
"I just met him today."
"Fine, I give up. I'm heading in to eat. You hungry?"
Before he answered, he looked down the street to where Osh stood. In my peripheral vision I saw Osh tip his hat like a fine gentleman, then walk away.
"I better not," Garrett said. "I have some work to do."
"Your loss," I teased, but he cast me a serious expression.
"It is indeed."
9
Without coffee, I'm just a really tall two-year-old.
-T-SHIRT
When I walked back into the café, the warm café, Shayla was just placing the plates on our table. Or, well, my table, since Ian had been invited to leave.
She glanced up nervously. "Um, your date … "
"Left," I finished for her. "I asked him to."
"Oh, perfect, then."
It was about that time I noticed where all the heat originated. Reyes sat at a table a few feet away, studying the menu. I slowed my pace, suddenly aware of every hair out of place. I could only hope my lips hadn't turned blue again.
I scooted into my booth as Shayla brought me some extra salsa – she knew me so well – her MedicAlert bracelet sparkling in the fluorescent light.
"Dang, girl," I said, admiring it. "You blinged-out your medical bracelet. That's cool."
She laughed and shook it so that the fake diamonds caught as much light as possible. "My dad did it for me."
"He sounds fantastic."
"He is," she said, before walking off.
I glanced at Reyes periodically as I ate, a man I could never have and yet craved so powerfully, it scared me.
He was wearing the shirt he'd had on earlier – only buttoned up – and no jacket. That fact caused a soft flood of alarm. Did he lie to me when he said he had another? No way was I taking his only jacket.
I wiped my hands, then walked over to his table. I'd left the motel rather abruptly and felt I owed him an apology. At least, that was the excuse I was going to give for my intrusion.
He'd splashed on a hint of very expensive cologne, and it wafted toward me as I got closer. Even though he only wore the button-down, he didn't seemed chilled at all. In fact, he'd rolled up the sleeves. I was beginning to realize he was his own furnace. Generated his own heat.
He watched me walk up. Had been watching me from the moment I left my booth, his gaze shimmering beneath the shadow of his lashes.
When I stopped in front of him, he raised his head. "Ms. Doerr," he said, making the name sound like a mixed drink.
"Mr. Farrow. I wanted to apologize for my -"
"No, you didn't," he interrupted, the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"Fine." I pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "Is this your only jacket?"
"No," he said. He wasn't lying, but that didn't mean he had another jacket with him. It could still be at his ex's or something.
"You just chose not to wear one tonight? On one of the coldest nights of the year?" He didn't answer, so I continued. "Do you need your jacket back?" I started to take it off, but he held up a hand.
"Keep it. It looks better on you."
Clearly he'd never looked in a mirror. Ever. "It swallows me."
"I'd swallow you, too, if I could."
A combination of elation and bewilderment bucked inside me, and I lowered my head, embarrassed. "If you need it back, will you promise to let me know? I should have mine in a couple of days." Again he didn't answer, so I spurred him with "Promise?"
I'd placed one hand on the table. He reached over and touched his fingertips to mine. The contact was like an electrical current, and my pulse stumbled on its own beat.
"Cross my heart."
I pulled my hand away, confused. He was obviously still hung up on his ex. He made no bones about it. But he felt genuine interest in me as well. I just didn't know how to handle it. If I should steer clear until he recovered from his recent breakup or not. The last thing I wanted was to be the rebound girl. Those relationships never lasted.