a reason to live(83)

“So you’re saying don’t grow old gracefully, but act as young as you feel?” I questioned.

She scoffed at the notion, her lips contorted at the idea of acting a certain way because you’re older. “Never accept defeat,” she stated emphatically. “But I’m not worried about you three. No, you ladies will do me proud and keep the home fires burnin’ while dancin’ to the beat of a different drum just like I do . . . And because of that, you’ll never grow old, only older-looking.”

“Sage advice coming from a rebel,” Mia pointed out.

“I’m full of Maxine-isms.”

The table erupted with laughter just as Frank returned to take our orders. When we looked up, he turned to Jenn and said, “You and the Sheriff had the same idea tonight. He just sat down with two other gentlemen.”

“Jack’s here?” Jenn asked, leaning past him.

I leaned forward as well and caught sight of Jack, Max, and Shane in a booth across the restaurant. They were studying their menus.

“Did you tell him I was here?”

“I did,” Frank smiled.

“And they didn’t want to join us?” Jenn gasped.

“I believe he said it was better to leave you to your friends to avoid imprisonment.”

Jenn gasped. Then she narrowed her eyes and asked suspiciously, “His or mine?”

Frank shrugged.

“Shit,” she muttered. “He’s extremely pissed.”

“Would you like to order now or should I come back?” he asked, catching the sudden mood at the table.

We ordered, Frank left, then we sat in silence staring at the booth across the restaurant.

“They won’t even look at us,” Mia whispered.

Bordering on nervous, I pulled out my phone, looked at the girls, then sent Shane a text. Did you have a good day? I watched him pick up his phone when the text chimed, then he laid it on the table and kept eating.

“He ignored you,” Maxine said, surprise lacing her voice.

“Pigheaded. They weren’t even locked up for a whole minute. I was locked up for a whole afternoon,” Jenn griped. “There’s no communicating with Jack when he thinks he’s right. I knew he’d be miffed, but this is worse than I expected.” She looked crestfallen for a moment. “I hate it when he’s mad at me.”

I knew how she felt. After a week of Shane keeping me at arm’s length, the fact he was ignoring me left me with an uneasy feeling.

I monitored their table as we tried to eat our steaks, but with the exception of Maxine, the rest of us pushed our food around.

Twenty minutes later, Shane stood from his table and headed toward the back where the restrooms were located. I followed him with my eyes. He had cocked his head to the side before he turned the corner. It appeared to me he was looking back at our table from the corner of his eye.

Does he want me to follow?

Wiping my mouth, I said, “Excuse me,” and rose from our booth.

I made my way around to the restrooms and leaned against a door marked storage, waiting for Shane to emerge. Man after man came out but none was Shane. I was about to give up when I heard his voice. I turned and found him on his phone as he walked around the corner. Pushing off the door, I swallowed hard when he glowered at me.

“I’ll call you back, Chester,” was all he said before he swiped it off and grabbed my arm. Opening the door to the storage room, Shane pushed me inside and locked the door behind him. He spun me around then and caged me in with his arms, leaning down as he did, and then he kissed me . . . thoroughly.

“Were you lookin’ for me?” he asked against my mouth.

I threw my arms around his neck and wiggled up his body, trying to get closer.

“Yes,” I breathed out.

Shane took advantage when I opened my mouth to speak and kissed me deeper, making my head spin.

He grabbed my ponytail and pulled my head back, then found the spot on my neck that drove me wild.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” he whispered in my ear then grazed my neck with his teeth.

When his hand brushed across my breast, his fingers rolling and tugging my nipple, I whimpered, “I’m sorry?”

Either he missed his calling as an interrogator or I was putty in his hands. Either way, I wasn’t opposed to his brand of questioning.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Locking you in the cell?”

Shane pulled back and searched my face, his thumb still circling my nipple. “That it?” he purred like honey, his stormy depths dark with lust.

There was more?

My brows creased in confusion and I answered hesitantly, “Pretty sure?”

Gray pools flashed like a lightning storm, then turned darker, hungrier.