She raised a brow. “Like a cigarette break, you mean?”
“Like a fresh air break.” I spun her around and gave her an almost gentle nudge toward the kitchen.
Once she was gone, I faced Axton, pushed aside the salt and pepper shakers, and leaned on my forearms. I gave him a narrowed-eyed look designed to make him spill all his secrets. “What did you do last night and what kind of favor do you need?”
“Can’t tell you where I went, but I need you to take my backpack for a day or two. Keep it someplace safe.”
Now I knew something was wrong. Axton without his backpack? That’d be like Linus without his blanket. Ax toted that thing everywhere. He probably slept with it. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No, no trouble.” His knee bobbed even faster than before. “Will you help me out?”
He gazed at me with an emotion I didn’t recognize. Anxiety, maybe? “Sure, Ax, whatever you need.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “It’ll only be for a day or two. Thanks, Rose.” He came around the counter and pulled me into a hug. “I’ve got to get back to work.” He quickly walked to the front door.
I followed him out of the diner, the aroma of coffee and cinnamon trailing behind me. I held up my hand to shield my eyes from the afternoon sun. “Call me later?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Sure.” Climbing into his Honda hatchback, he waved as he drove out of the lot.
A brisk wind kicked up and I rubbed at the goose bumps on my bare arms.
Stupid me, I should have never let him drive away.
Chapter 2
I walked back inside and scooped up Axton’s backpack, taking it into the kitchen with me. As I opened the swinging door, the smoky tang of bacon grew stronger. My boss, Ray, scrubbed the grill, and the dishwasher, Jorge, clinked plates as I moved past them into the pantry. I dropped the bag at my feet. It weighed a ton.
I sat on my haunches and unzipped it. So help me, if Ax stashed his pot in here, I was flushing it. But as I dug into the pack, I found it drug free — unless you counted the flannel shirt that almost gave me a contact high after one whiff. There was also a hardback copy of
I stuffed everything back inside and took a case of syrup off the shelf. I removed the restaurant-sized bottles of imitation maple goodness and stuck the backpack in the large box, closed the lid, and hoisted it back in place. Then I made some room next to the salsa and decided the condiments could play nice for a couple of days.
Roxy found me a minute later, with my hands on my hips, staring at the syrup box. “You must be really bored,” she said.
“Yep.” I followed her out of the pantry and into the dining room.
“Do you want to do something tonight or are you studying?” She walked over to the windows and pulled down the shades.
“I’m going to study with Janelle, go to bed, then get up and do it all over again. It’s glamorous, I know.” I lifted a shoulder. “But that’s just how I roll, my friend.”
“Your life kinda sucks.”
Sadly, she was right. Truth was, my life had become pretty predictable. My classes were beyond boring and I spent weekends either drinking watered down beer with Roxy or watching sci-fi movies with Ax. Sometimes when I got really wild, I did both at the same time. Not exactly living on the edge.
My name is Rose Strickland — Rosalyn to those who named me. I inherited my blue-green eyes from my dad, my A-cup boobs from my mom, and my blonde hair from them both. Where I got my wicked sense of humor and independent spirit was anyone’s guess, but the last two traits pissed my parents off to no end.
When I was eighteen, they shipped me off to the college they had chosen for me. A small, private, all-girls- all-the-time school. I hated it. After my freshman year when I insisted on changing schools, my parents insisted I leave their home and pay for college myself.
Fast forward five years, and I now was a student at Huntingford City College — not the most prestigious college in Missouri, but nearly affordable on a waitress’s salary. I took a class or two each semester in an effort to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. This semester, I figured out I did not want a career in ethics or accounting. I don’t know what a career in ethics would be anyway. Nun, maybe?
I was a twenty-four-year-old former rich girl who didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up. But for sure, it wasn’t a nun.
“Well, at least I have a date with Scotty this afternoon. That’s something to look forward to.” I untied and folded my apron before laying it on the counter. Scotty, my too adorable, five-year-old nephew had challenged me to a game of Hungry Hippo. Oh, the foolishness of youth.
Roxy popped her gum. “Why was Axton acting all weird today?”
Good question. “I don’t know. But he wanted me to keep his backpack for a couple of days.”
She raised a pale brow. “Remind me again why you like that stoner so much.”
“Axton’s one of the good guys. He was there for me when I needed him. He’s true blue.”
But he had been acting weird today. I decided to call him later about this backpack business. He must have had a good reason to give it to me. I just wanted to know what that reason was.
Grabbing my purse, I poked my head into the kitchen and said goodbye to the boys, then walked out to the parking lot with Roxy. As I waved to her, I saw a black SUV with tinted windows drive by. The back passenger window was down and I caught a glimpse of a man staring out at me.
Roxy followed my gaze. “Someone thinks you’re tasty.” She wagged a finger at me. “And remember, don’t study too hard. Boys like girls with big tits, not big brains.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have either.”
I hopped into my piece of shit car and sped out of the lot.
Scotty waited for me at the door of my sister’s mini-manse. By the time my feet hit the narrow porch, he was out of the house and launching himself at me like a missile. I stumbled back from the surprise attack, but kept upright as I bear hugged him.
“Hey, Sport, how are you?”
“Good. I want to go to the park. Can we go to the park? Please, Aunt Rose, please?”
I looked down at the tow-headed love of my life and smiled. “Sure. But you need a jacket.”
He flew back into the house and I followed at a slower pace. My sister, Jacks, her blonde hair in a twist and her pretty face makeup-free, stepped into the marbled foyer.
“Did he talk you into taking him to the park?”
“Yep.”
“You’re such a softy, Rose.”
Rose Strickland, part-time student, full-time softy. “How can you say no to that sweet, little face?”
“He sure has you fooled.”
Scotty, soccer ball in hand, sped down the stairs as fast as his short legs could manage. “Got to go, Mom. See ya.” Then he ran out the front door and I swear my hair blew back from the breeze that kid created in his wake.
“See ya.” I gave my sister a finger wave.
Scotty and I walked to the park, which was a block away. The large houses in this neighborhood sat on small lots, with the occasional tree dotting the yard. It was early October. Only a few leaves had changed color, but the weather was in flux. Cold mornings gave way to mostly warm afternoons. As the sun started to fall, so did the temperatures.
The park was a hotbed of elementary action — swings, jungle gyms, those little cartoon characters on springs — all teeming with screaming kids. More nannies than moms stood off to the side and sat on benches, watching the mayhem.
