Page 35 of Wasted

She slammed the door shut on the locker and swiveled her head toward him. An unusual flash lit her eyes. “No, I will not. I need to leave him to do his job, exactly as he told me to do in the first place.” She pulled back the cuff of her jacket sleeve to check her watch. “And I also need to go to my first appointment.” She pulled on a purple pair of thin gloves. “I hope you have a good day with whatever you’re supposed to be doing.” She threw him a glance and marched to the door.

“Hold on.” He scrambled to grab his leather jacket from another hook and pushed through the door she’d let close behind her. How come she listened to everyone’s orders but his?

He stuck his arms through the sleeves as he jogged after her. “Vicks, wait.”

She stopped abruptly. So abruptly he nearly crashed into her. “I don’t think you should call me that anymore.” She didn’t face him as she said it.

But she would have to if she expected to convince him she didn’t want him to use the nickname she’d loved sixteen years ago. The one that had always made her smile or blush.

He stepped in front of her. “Why not?”

She lifted her gaze to his. No, she wasn’t the naïve young girl anymore. She didn’t shy away from eye contact now with that cute, embarrassed smile. Her hazel eyes held a grim firmness they’d never had before. And a confidence, determination, and strength that made her more beautiful than ever. But the orbs that watched him also held a wariness born of experience.

Experience with him or someone else? Either way, he didn’t think he’d like the answer or what she was going to say next.

“Before you answer that,” he cut in before she could speak, “we didn’t really get dessert last night. How about dinner tonight?”

Her eyebrows lowered like she was getting ready to say a pretty heavy No.

“Or lunch or whatever kind of meal or coffee you’re comfortable with.” He gave her a grin. The one that used to melt her defenses.

“I still don’t understand why you’re here, but it’s best that we see each other as little as possible.”

Okay, melting was not the effect anymore. More like the opposite. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “I want to tell you why I’m here. Isn’t that worth getting coffee or something? I promise I won’t get you into any trouble at all. It’ll just be coffee.”

Her gaze followed his hand as he dropped it to his side. “Why aren’t you wearing gloves?”

“They’re on the bike.” He pointed to his motorcycle, and she swung to look.

“You’re still riding a motorcycle? In the winter?”

He laughed. “Of course.”

“You were driving a jeep yesterday.” She brought her focus back to him, confusion shaping her features.

“And now the bike today. Want to go for a ride?”

Her eyes widened, making him laugh again.

He’d never forget the day he’d sat her on his bike and taken her for the first motorcycle ride of her life. Prim and proper Victoria had squealed for a block before she’d settled for squeezing his waist in a death grip from behind. Which hadn’t bothered him one bit.

She frowned. Apparently, the memory wasn’t as enjoyable for her. Or she was trying to pretend it wasn’t. “I’ll stay with my warm and safe car, thank you.”

“Ah, yes.” He looked at her gray Honda Civic. “The dependable?—”

Something white on her windshield caught his eye. Not snow. Paper? He walked to her car. Sure enough, a piece of paper was folded into a square and tucked beneath the wiper blade. He pulled it out. “Don’t tell me Victoria Weston got a parking ticket.” He tossed her a grin.

She arched one eyebrow. “In the employee parking lot?”

“Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

She blew out a sigh. “Give me that.” She reached for the note.

He almost couldn’t squelch the urge to hold it out of her arm’s length, but that would only convince her he was still the immature kid she’d known before. He let her slip it from his hand.

A much better choice since an electric shock buzzed through him when her gloved fingers brushed his skin.

Her long eyelashes lifted as she glanced up at him. Then she dropped her attention to the paper and unfolded it.