Page 4 of My Hotshot

Her eyes flicked to the patch on my chest.

“Iron Fiends,” she read aloud. Then her gaze slid to the patch over my name. “And yep, Dice.” She gave me a half-smile. “How’d you come up with that?”

I shrugged. “That’s a story for another time.”

She laughed, a soft musical sound that tugged at something buried in me. “Okay.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out and glanced at the screen.

Where the fuck are you?Yarder had impeccable timing as usual.

I frowned.

“I’ll let you get that,” Lainey said, giving me a gentle out. She shifted the canvas grocery bag higher on her shoulder. “I’ve got an empty fridge and a fifteen-year-old who’s not going to deal well with takeout for the second week in a row.”

I didn’t want to end this conversation. I wanted more—more time, more stories, more of her.

But I also knew Yarder didn’t text like that unless shit was serious. And I’d already been skating too close to the edge with him lately.

“Uh, yeah,” I said reluctantly. “I do have some things I need to do. Maybe we can get together one night and catch up?”

Lainey hesitated. “Uh… maybe. I’m kind of busy with getting settled in right now.”

I nodded, not wanting to push her. “How about I give you my number, and you can call or text when it’s good for you?”

She pulled out her phone. “Sure. That sounds good.”

I rattled off the number and watched her type it in with fingernails painted a dark gray.

“I’ll text you when things settle down,” she said with a timid smile. “It was good seeing you again, Duane.”

I slid my sunglasses back on and smirked. “Dice, baby.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, that one’s gonna take me a bit to get used to. I’ll see you around.”

She turned and headed toward the grocery store. Her hips swayed as those long legs carried her away from me. I stood there like some idiot stuck in a daydream.

Damn.

She looked even better walking away.

My past had just strolled back into my life wearing frayed shorts and white sneakers, and now she was disappearing into a grocery store while I stood there with a patch on my chest and feeling like an eighteen-year-old all over again.

Lainey fucking Daly.

I remembered everything in a rush. Kissing her in the cab of my truck with her hair tangled in my fingers. That laugh that bubbled out when she was happy and the way her hand had felt in mine when we made those bullshit promises about forever.

She looked hot.

Not just pretty. Not just fine.

Hot.

Curvy and womanly and every bit the fantasy I didn’t even know I still had.

My phone buzzed again. This time, Yarder was calling.

I swiped to connect and put it to my ear. “Yeah?”

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