Page 31 of All Wrong
He picked up the check and walked with her toward the front, stopping at the cashier to pay. No one was there; everyone was busy elsewhere.
“Candace, can you ring them up before you go?” called a female voice from the back.
“Yeah, sure,” a young server answered, pausing in her task of resetting a table and stepping behind the register. “How was everything?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Low, throaty, and slightly husky. Corinne looked closer at the woman. She was slim, with black hair and crimson tips, and several piercings, including the one through her tongue that flashed when she talked.
“Great, thanks,” Brett answered.
As the young woman handed him his change, her eyes met Corinne’s and sparked with recognition.
“You used to teach dance classes at The Zone, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I still do.” Corinne looked closer. It had been a few years, but the resemblance was there, underneath all the makeup and piercings. The young woman had been a natural, very flexible and graceful, before she stopped coming entirely. Corinne had often wondered what had become of her.
The woman nodded. “You have a nice day,” she said, then resumed her table-setting duties.
In a gentlemanly move, Brett opened the door, the light touch of his hand on her lower back lasting no more than a second or two.
Outside, the sky had darkened, and the scent of impending rain hung heavy in the air. Something—a warning, a feeling—made her look across the street, where a familiar figure leaned casually against a black-and-chrome Harley. He was staring right at her and Brett. Eyes intense, face impassive.
Her eyes locked with his, and for several long moments, everything else faded away.
“Maybe we can do this again sometime,” Brett said, breaking the weird spell.
Heart pounding, she ripped her eyes away from Nick and turned her attention back to Brett. It took a moment for his words to register. It had been a nice lunch, and Brett had been easy to talk to.
“Maybe we can.”
He offered a smile, one that suggested he thought she was only saying so to be kind. “I’ll leave it completely up to you. You have my number.”
“I do.”
Lightning seared across the sky, almost instantly followed by a heavy clap of thunder, but the imminent downpour hadn’t yet begun.
“Want to go back in? I can give you a ride. I’m parked right around the corner.”
“Thanks, but I think I can make it.”
He nodded. “Better get going then. And for the record, I’m hoping you call.”
When Brett turned and walked away, Corinne looked across the street, where Nick was swinging one long, jean-clad leg over his bike. His lean, muscular body rose before he gave the machine a powerful downward kick, and he took off without looking back.
A strong gust dislodged the loose knot at the back of her head, sending her hair whipping into her face. Wondering what that had been about, Corinne picked up her pace. The first fat drops began to fall when she was only steps away from the bank. The deluge came shortly after.
Neither the Johnsons nor Becci were anywhere to be seen.
As Corinne settled back behind her desk, she couldn’t help wondering if Nick had managed to outrun the rain. That thought was followed quickly by imagining what it would feel like to ride on the back of Nick’s bike during a thunderstorm.
Ultimate freedom, she decided.It would feel like joy and ultimate freedom.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NICK
Nick didn’t know what the hell he was thinking, only that he’d been minding his own business, cruising back from the auto parts store, when he caught a glimpse of blonde hair in the window of that trendy little café.
Corinne. And she wasn’t alone.
