Page 43 of Ghost

Ghost

It had been eight days since Abby and I made love for the first time. In that time, I’d all but abandoned my brothers in the MC, only seeing them during our mandatory Wednesday meeting. Abby had become the most important element in my life. From what I could see, I’d become an equally important part of hers.

I was fascinated with my unquenchable desire to spend time with her. My mother had explained that when I found the love of my life I would know it. Although I hadn’t fallen in love with Abby yet, I had my suspicions that she was that woman.

I opened the diner door and held it open. No less than fifty eyes ratcheted toward me. After Abby walked past, I released the door and sized up each of the men who seemed to be more interested in us than their food. Eventually, they all went back to eating their meals.

“Does this place only serve Marines?” I whispered.

“No,” she responded. “But a lot of them come in here.”

We took a seat at an empty booth. A matter of seconds after were seated, a middle-aged man approached our table. He wore a buzz-cut, was built like Rambo, and possessed the ability to burn holes through solid objects with his glare. After warming my skin with his stare for a few long seconds, he shifted his eyes to Abby.

“Has he been feeding you?” He looked her over. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

“He has a name,” she said in a snide tone. “It’s Porter.”

I felt as though she was introducing me to a member of her family. One who was angry about her decision to bring me into his diner for lunch. Nonetheless, I put on a smile, stood, and extended my hand.

“Porter Reeves,” I said. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

“I was an enlisted Marine,” he barked. “I’m not a Sir.”

“Geeeooorge,” Abby said. “Be nice.”

He looked me over as if we were preparing to fight. He cocked his head to the side. “This is as nice as I’m going to get,” he responded, directing his comment to Abby, but keeping his eyes locked on me.

“Sorry,” I said in an apologetic tone. “Ma’am and Sir. It’s habit.”

“The military, a Boys Ranch, or upbringing instill such habits.” He looked me dead in the eyes and shook my hand firmly. “Which is it?”

Through that handshake, he let me know what Abby meant to him. Any mistreatment of her would be dealt with harshly. As a reassurance that he had nothing to worry about, I held his gaze and returned his firm grip.

“Upbringing,” I said. “I was raised in Montana by two women. My mother and my grandmother. If I wasn’t polite, I got my ear twisted in a knot.”

He released my hand. “Damned fine country, Montana. Been fishing there a few times.”

I grinned. “I grew up on a hundred and sixty acres. We had four ponds and a stream that ran through it. I’ve pulled many meals out of those ponds.”

He pursed his lips and shook his head lightly. “A fresh stream trout on the grill is about as good as it gets.”

I nodded. “I’ll agree to that.”

George sat across from Abby and gestured toward the seat next to her. As directed, I took a seat at her side.

He lowered his chin and looked Abby over. “You look tired.”

“I am. We were up all night,” she said. “Talking.”

His eyes shot to me. One eyebrow raised. “Talking?”

“We talked,” I said with a nod.

It was true. We had talked. While we were having sex.

His brows knitted together. That look of disbelief remained locked on me for a moment, and then he shifted his gaze to Abby. “Talking?”

Abby rested her forearms on the table’s edge and returned George’s glare. Locked eye-to-eye, they stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then, Abby drew a long breath through her nose and leaned against the back of the booth.