Page 25 of Hiss and Make Up
“Sheesh, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Marc said.
“Shh.” Sierra put up a hand to shield her face, hoping the guy wouldn’t recognize her. “Talk to me about something. Quick.”
Marc squinted at her. “Which is it? Shh or talk to you?”
She nodded toward the door. “Don’t look, just give me some cover.”
Of course, he looked. “Who is that?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute, just help me out for one second.”
The two men walked toward them looking for an open booth.
“I thought you didn’t need me to save you. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“For crying out loud, I don’t need you to save me when I don’t want saving. But if I’m asking for help,yes, please,” she hissed at him.
The man in the hat stood beside their booth, looking down at Sierra still trying to hide. But it was too late.
“Great. You’re stalking me to ruin all my meals now?”
This guy was supposed to be some random asshole tourist. He was supposed to disappear after she taught him a lesson and lost her job over it.
Marc looked back and forth between them, then asked the man, “Is there a problem?”
The muscles in Marc’s arms were tight, ready for the unknown. Sierra watched him defending her, while she felt the other guy’s eyes still burning holes in the side of her head.
“No problem,” the guy said. When Sierra refused to acknowledge him, he turned to Marc and pointed at his glass. “Here’s a tip: watch your drink.”
He left to sit in a booth in the back of the diner, and Sierra exhaled. She watched as the muscles in Marc’s forearms relaxed.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Mr. Grabby Hands from the restaurant you worked at?”
Sierra nodded. She would never admit it, but the encounter had shaken her.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got an eye on them.”
She glanced up to see if he was teasing her again, but his expression was deadly serious. No dig at her. No comment on her getting into more than she could handle. No poke about her needing him to save her.
With her heart doing backflips, Sierra picked at her napkin and changed the subject. “So, you work at the paper? I thought you worked in radio?”
He paused for a second, like he wouldn't let her get away with changing the subject so easily, but he said, “I’m also a sports beat writer and columnist.”
“What’s the job?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He snapped it shut then opened it again. “Different departments, different options. We can find something for you, I’m sure.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t see how that solves anything. I mean, I’m grateful for the offer, and I need the money, but that doesn’t solveourproblem.”
His cheeks flushed red again. “Wedon’t have a problem.”
“Uh, yeah. We do. If I take this job, who’s gonna solve our thief and snake problems?”
His nostrils flared. “What is this ‘our’ crap? My thief. My snake problem.”
Maybe she was overstepping a tiny bit, but she did need the money. And, more importantly, she hated when people messed with her friends. It’s what had gotten her fired in the first place. At the very least, someone needed to pay for what they were doing to Denise.
“You brought me into it,” she argued.
