Page 54 of Live for Me

I scurried my way into the driver’s seat to brake and put that bitch in park. I jerked the keys out of the ignition just for good measure, like it was the truck’s fault that she’d freaked out and ran for it while it was still in gear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

memphis

Iwas almost back to the road before Utah’s hand wrapped around my wrist. I whirled around to face him and ripped my arm back out of his hold just to be ready to fight him.

Like a rabid wolf that he’d backed into a corner.

Well, a grumpy little chihuahua at the very least.

“If you think for even a second that you’re actually going to tie me—” I started to say.

“Memphis,” he interrupted with an infuriating chuckle. “Calm down. You’re fine.”

“Fine?!”

“Okay, you’re alive. You’re not hurt. I’m good too, by the way. Thank you for asking. You didn’t kill me either by jumping out of a truck that was still in gear.”

“I’m not doing that again, Utah.”

He laughed that time. “I won’t make you do it again. You tried something that you hadn’t already mastered going in. Just get back in the truck, angel.”

“We can get back to actual work?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t tell anybody about that?”

“Mmm, I don’t know if I can promise that one,” he laughed.

“You’re aware that I will hate you for all of eternity if you tell anybody about that?”

“I am very well aware, baby.”

God, I needed him to stop calling me that.

I needed him to stop with all the names.

“Back in the truck,” he said again.

After I pouted in embarrassment for the rest of the hour-long drive to the diner where Tennessee’s truck was parked, I watched Utah put the radio in his ear to connect to Indy.

“You ready?” he asked when he looked at me.

“Yeah. I can do this part without the risk of killing anyone.”

He was smart enough to only smile in response to that.

“The flat cap,” Utah whispered when we walked through the door. “The back corner booth by himself.”

It put me a little more at ease that this diner was crowded. Tennessee wouldn’t be swinging a knife at either of us in a busy restaurant like Montana had done to Utah in an empty alley.

I went to the back booth and slid down the bench until I was across from Tennessee. Utah sat next to me a second later. Tennessee paused with his fork midway between his plate and his open mouth to stare at Utah.

“Tennessee,” Utah said.

Tennessee laughed and dropped his fork from right where he’d held it so it clattered against the plate.

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