Page 92 of Marc

Marc scoffs. “This is a free country and I’m allowed to cross county lines if I want.”

The officer’s tone gets deeper and is filled with hate. “You don’t want trouble.”

The veins in Marc’s forearm bulge as he squeezes his fist tighter. “Of course not, but you can’t close off an entire county for a law-abiding citizen.”

Jared’s friend clears his throat. “You aren’t welcome here.”

“The fuck I am.”

Why must Marc antagonize the officer? We should have already been at the diner, or at least almost there.

The officer narrows his eyes. “You have no business in this county. You don’t work here and you don’t live here.”

Marc sits up straighter in his seat and clenches his jaw for a moment. “As long as Staci owns property here and Jared is harassing and breaking into her house, I do have business here.”

The officer bends forward to look at me. “Hey, Staci. I’ll be sure to tell Jared I saw you.”

Marc huffs. “Are you going to give me a ticket or not?”

After some tense moments of Marc and the officer staring at one another, the officer hands over a sheet of paper. “I already did. Y’all be safe out there.”

Marc scoffs as the officer walks back to his car.

I take the paper from Marc and read the citation. “He gave you a ticket for having an illegal tint on your car windows.”

Marc shrugs as he drives off. “It’s only a hundred dollars.”

“And how do you know this?”

“I’ve gotten one before. It was years ago and wasn’t in this county.”

“Look at you continually breaking the law.” I tease.

Marc flashes me a grin. “I like living dangerously.”

We share a laugh as he pulls into the parking lot of the diner.

He holds open the door to the restaurant for me. His gaze wanders over my body through the all glass door. The two bells hanging on the door signal our arrival.

Marc follows close behind me and when his hand grazes my ass, he gives it a light squeeze. I chuckle and turn around to face him so he can see me wag my eyebrows.

His eyes darken with lust at my gesture. He whispers, “Food first.”

Looking around the near empty diner, I ask, “How about we take the same booth as last time?”

He glances at the booth we occupied during our last visit. “Sounds perfect.”

The same waitress as before greets the two of us once we are seated.

“Welcome back, you two. Do you want to order your usual?”

Marc looks at her and nods. “I’ll have my usual.”

The waitress turns her attention to me. “What about you, hon?”

“Marc’s usual meal was really good last time, so I’ll have it again.”

The waitress smiles and jots our order down on her notepad.

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