He felt heat begin to fill his cheeks. Dammit. He’d never get her to go out with him if he couldn’t untwist his tongue. “Two dozen of each. And mixed… Um, mixed donuts, that is.”
She nodded and pulled four pink boxes from beneath the counter, unfolding them then laying down tissue paper or some such in the bottoms of the containers to line them.
She quickly filled his order then stacked the boxes neatly beside the cash register.
He already had his credit card out, not wanting to extend the conversation because he’d likely make a bigger fool out of himself if he did. Then he noticed the light coating of something white on her collarbone. It looked like the glazing on the donuts she’d put into the box. His mouth watered.
She rang up the order and handed him back his card. “Would you like a cup of coffee to take with you, sir?”
“Preacher,” he blurted.
She shook her head. “Pardon me?”
“Not sir. Preacher.”
“That your first or last name?”
“It’s what I’m called.” At this point he wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.
“Well, Preacher,” she said, leaning over the counter and smiling as she handed him a coffee, “you have a good day.”
He managed a nod before reaching for the boxes and the coffee and quickly exiting the store. “Damn. Fuck. Shit,” he whispered under his breath as he headed to his vehicle.
Another chance missed. It would be five more days before he’d have donut duty again. He wondered if he shouldn’t practice in front of a mirror before he attempted to talk to her again, or maybe he needed a wingman or woman to help him out.
The thought of asking Marti to accompany him made him snort. Yeah, like he’d ever let that happen. She’d never let him hear the end of it if he froze like that in front of her.
The crew was seated around the table when he arrived. Lacey stood and reached for the boxes. She’d already laid out paper plates and napkins. The boxes were passed around the table.
“Was that pretty blonde working today?” Lacey asked, her gaze locking on him.
He felt heat creep into his cheeks. “Yeah. Of course. It’s her place, isn’t it?”
“What’s her name? I keep forgetting to ask.”
“Laura Pinchot,” he blurted, then realized he’d been baited when Lacey’s grin stretched.
“Laura Pinchot. Pretty name,” she said. “Why haven’t you asked her out on a date? That’s how you swing, right?”
Preacher narrowed his gaze and shot her boyfriend, Dagger, a glare. “Is she always in everyone’s business?”
Dagger smiled and placed his arm around her shoulder. “It’s just who she is. She wants everyone as happy as she is.”
Lacey scoffed and pushed his arm away. “I’m still not talking to you.”
“What’d he go and do now?” Fig asked, one dark brow arching.
“It’s not what he did—it’s what he didn’t do,” Lacey said. “And I’m not talking about it.”
“Good to hear,” Dagger said, under his breath.
“He doesn’t like it when I talk about sex with other people.”
“You have sex with other people?” Fig said, her eyebrows rising, but her tone teasing.
Lacey’s shoulders shook. “Would serve him right.”
“I’ll remember that the next time you ask me to go d—”
Lacey elbowed his side—so hard, apparently, he was left breathless.
“Can we get back to business?” Cage said, his tone dry.
“Hard to do when we never started…” Fig muttered.
“Fig, let’s go over the list from the home office. Anything in our area, starting with the highest bounties and working our way down…?”
* * *
Assignments were made. Lacey and Dagger were heading toward Helena to grab a pedophile who’d failed to make his date in court. Lacey had left with fire in her eyes, eager to be the one to take the unlucky fellow down. No doubt a pretty pink boot would find itself lodged in the guy’s nuts if she had her way.
Cage had offered another middling bounty—one for a meth dealer who’d skated out of town the morning he was due in court—to Preacher and Marti, but Preacher had asked to take a list of drug test skips so he could stay closer to home this week, saying he had some personal business to attend to, so Cage and Marti headed out together.
Preacher had sat with Fig, working on cold calls to relatives and girlfriends until he was pretty sure he’d have no trouble finding his skips.
When he headed toward the door, Fig lifted her chin. “Say hi to Laura.”
He hadn’t bothered answering—or turning around to give her a scowl, because his hot cheeks would’ve told her she’d hit her mark.
Once he was in his SUV, he glanced at the folders in his hand but ended up tossing them onto the seat beside him. He wasn’t going to get a thing done until he faced the issue that had been nagging at him all day.
Asking a woman for a date wasn’t a big deal. He’d done it dozens of times—and most women said yes. Maybe they had because they’d known he was a member of an elite fighting force. Nowadays, he was just a rough bounty hunter. No uniform, but a badge that most folks either eyed with disdain or humor, depending on which TV show they happened to watch.
Well, he’d ask her, and if she said no, that would be it. At least, he’d stop obsessing over her. There were plenty of single women in this town. Hell, he’d take out old Nadine from the diner with her missing teeth and grumpy disposition. Didn’t matter. All he was looking for was company.
Right. What he was looking for was what Cage and Dagger had. Someone to go home to because having a loving partner was what made a home.
He turned onto Main Street, taking his time while he tried out different lines in his head. By the time he parked in front of Deadly Delights, he was pretty sure he’d forget every one of them, which was frustrating as hell. He’d never had this problem talking to a woman. Sure, he wasn’t the smoothest, but he could manage to carry on half of a conversation without losing his focus. There was just something about her. Something different. Something more. Maybe it was the thought of what she must smell like when a man got up close, like vanilla and secret spice. His dick stirred just thinking about getting that close, and he reached down to readjust himself.
Get it together. Ask her out. You’re a warrior not a fucking pussy.
Drawing a deep breath, he exited his vehicle and walked to the door of her shop. Through the window, he could see the shop was empty, then he spotted her. Her back was to the window as she wiped down a counter, her ass twitching enticingly in her jeans. Her Deadly Delights pink T-shirt hugged her waist and the top of her hips. Both were a little on the generous side, something he admired. But he was getting ahead of himself, imagining what she looked like beneath them, round and pale and pink…
Good Lord, he was getting hard again.
He reached for the handle and opened the door. The bell above the door tinkled, and she turned, a smile already on her face. When she saw it was him, her smile changed. He wasn’t sure exactly how or what it meant, but her lips seemed a little plumper. And there he was again, imagining how they’d feel beneath his or around him.