“Hang on, babe.”
Fifteen minutes later, Savage came to a stop outside of a diner called Boots. It wasn’t much to look at and my expression must’ve said as much.
“Trust me.” He winked and then took my hand. He held open the door for me and I stepped inside. The aroma of bacon and fried things hit me instantly and my mouth watered.
A waitress told us to sit anywhere, and Savage let me have my pick.
I headed toward the back where there was a free booth.
Savage groaned.
I looked at him over my shoulder. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Evie.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Well, well, well,” a young woman said as she sauntered toward us with a tall, dark-haired young man right behind her. He looped his arm over her shoulder and grinned.
“Hey, Little Punk,” Savage greeted. “You’ve got paint on your cheek.”
The young woman with bright red hair scrubbed her face.
“Gotcha,” Savage teased.
“You think I would’ve let you leave the house with paint on your cheek?” the young man asked her, looking at her fondly.
“You let me leave the house with paint on my cheek just last week,” she stated.
“It was cute.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
She turned her attention back to Savage. “Nice shiner. Did she give it to you?”
Savage reached out a tweaked her nose. “Fighting at The Ring.”
“Ah, that makes more sense.” The young woman glanced at me. “I’ve been looking for that jacket.”
“Oh.” I blushed. “Savage said I could?—”
She reached out and unzipped the breast pocket and extracted something. “My favorite lip gloss. Thanks.”
I blinked stupidly.
“Now’s the time to introduce us, you heathen,” the young woman drawled.
“Evie, this is Waverly and her boyfriend Dylan.”
“Willa’s sister,” Waverly added.
I frowned. “Willa?”
Waverly’s gaze darted back to Savage. “She hasn’t met Willa yet?”
“No. Not yet.” His gaze was pointed.
“Realllllly.” Waverly beamed. “Evie, it was nice to meet you. I’d love to stay and chat, but?—”
“But you’ve got somewhere else to be, right?” Savage drawled. “Instead of up in my shit?”