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Her mouth opens and closes a few times. I can see the indecision written across her gorgeous face before she finally shrugs. “I shouldn’t be much longer.”
Relief cuts through me. Tonight, I have her safety covered. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out a way to make sure she makes it home safely each night.
A little while later, Lyric stops by my office door and tells me, “I’m ready to leave when you are.”
“Great.” I grab my keys and follow her through the dark, empty office. With Lyric at my side, the elevator descent feels a little less frustrating this time. My mind is filled with all the things I’ve learned about Lyric—her kindness, her dedication, her fucking amazing ability to handle more than most people. She stole my heart the first moment she walked into my office, but now I know what an amazing woman she is and I have to up my game if I’m going to win her love.
Back in the cool evening air, I lead her over to my SUV. It dawns on me she’s got my heart tangled up in ways I hadn’t thought were possible.
The seven-minute drive to her house is spent in almost complete silence. Her delicate scent causes my cock to wake the fuck up, and I discreetly adjust things before the constriction of my pants causes permanent damage.
When I insist on walking her to the door, Lyric doesn’t argue. Once we reach the front door, she turns to me and whispers, “Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before I’m even able to respond, she closes the door in my face, and I find myself standing on her doorstep like a lovesick moron. Appropriate, I know.
As I drive home, I make a silent decision, one that sits right beneath the surface: I need to understand what’s going on in her life, and if she needs help, I’m going to find a way to offer it.
Sprawled out on my couch a while later, I flip through the contacts on my phone, planning to dig around a bit. I need to know what I’m working with so I can come up with a plan to win my girl. First step is contacting Giant Carmichael, an old friend who runs a security company, to find out everything there is to know about Lyric. If anyone could help me find out more information discreetly, it would be him.
I know I’m acting crazy, but when someone as amazing as Lyric drops into your lap, caution takes the back seat. I’ll do anything necessary to make things easier on her. Lyric owns my heart completely, and there’s really nothing at all I wouldn’t do for her.
After a long sleepless night, I head over to the office before the sun rises. I should wait a while but I just can’t. Sitting at my desk, I glance out at the darkened streets of Silver Spoon Falls and dial Giant’s number.
“Someone had better be dead for you to call me this goddamn early.” His sleepy voice cuts through the line and I wince.
“Sorry.” I’m not really sorry at all. This fucker is lucky I didn’t call his ass at midnight last night. “I need a favor and it couldn’t wait.”
“And I need to win the lottery, but we can’t all have what we want,” the asshole growls before fucking hanging up on me.
I glare at my phone and take several deep breaths, wondering how long I should wait to call him back.
A few moments later, a text comes through, answering my question.
Giant
Since you woke my ass up and I can’t go back to sleep, you owe me breakfast. Meet me at the 5th Avenue Diner in an hour. You can explain your problem while I try out their new breakfast menu.
Me
I’ll be there.
With that settled, I prop my elbows on my desk, fingers steepled as I gaze out of the window. Below, the city churns with life, unaware of the turmoil churning inside me.
Fifty-four minutes later, I push open the heavy glass door with “5th Avenue Diner” painted in red and black letters and look around. I’m immediately hit with a sense of nostalgia blended with contemporary charm. The polished black-and-white checkered floor stretches out beneath rows of classic red vinyl booth tables, their surfaces lined with polished chrome edges that gleam under the overhead lights. The walls are adorned with retro memorabilia—classic Coca-Cola ads, vintage records, and black-and-white photographs of 1950s movie stars like Marilyn Monroe and James Dean.
A long, sleek counter runs along one side of the diner, complemented by round, swivel stools upholstered in matching red. Waitstaff dressed in vintage-inspired uniforms scuttle about with notepads in hand, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon wafting through the air, mixing with the sweet scent of homemade pastries.
I glance to the left and see Giant sitting at a booth in the corner. As I walk over, a waitress calls to me, “I’ll be right over for your order.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her as I slide into the booth across from my friend. I sit back and tell him. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“I’m doing it to keep you from calling me at ungodly hours,” he grumbles and reaches for his cup of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me who has you acting like a madman.”
“It’s a woman.”
“I already figured that much out.” He smirks. “Let me guess, you’ve been drinking the water in town.”
I look down at the glass of ice water sitting on the table and wonder what in the fuck he’s talking about. “What?” I ask as the waitress walks up to get our orders.
After I choose the cowboy omelet, Giant orders half the goddamn breakfast menu.
