Page 62 of Savage Prince
“Not for that.” I shake my head and swallow. “For the other. Everything else. What you did. You—”
“You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do anything but show you I wasn’t a good bet. That’s the truth.”
“You believed in me. In my dreams. Didn’t run me down for wanting more than the bayou and that little life. You didn’t question me or make me explain myself. You just ... let me be, and then you let me go.” My words are rough by the end of my speech.
Elijah drops his gaze to the floor for a beat before meeting mine. “We all want more, Tempe, but you were the only one who had the drive to actually get there. Proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
He gives me a nod. “Now, you ready to get your Bronco back?”
“Yeah. I am.”
He heads for the door. “I’ll meet you out front in my ride.”
Before I can respond, he snags his boots and walks out the door.
* * *
I’mout front in less than five minutes and find Elijah double-parked in his old Ford truck.The same truck he ...I don’t finish my thought.
I reach for the old silver handle, tug it open, and climb inside. “Figured you would’ve scrapped this thing by now.”
“Nah, this truck’s vintage. Worth a hell of a lot more whole. But I’ll never sell it. At least, not unless shit gets real bad.”
As the old truck rolls forward, I ask, “Where we headed?”
“Other side of town. Somewhere you’re going to pretend you’ve never seen and will definitely never talk about ever again.” He gives me a sidelong glance at the stop sign. “You catch my drift.”
“So I’m the blind, deaf, and dumb girl this morning.” I look out the window, taking in the sole man in a suit on his way to work way too early on this Saturday morning. “Got it.”
“You know how it goes. It ain’t your Bronco. It’s one I’ve been looking for to build out for a friend.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, still avoiding looking at Elijah, and that’s when I seehim. I stiffen in my seat, my shoulders going poker straight as I take in the man sitting at a café table with a coffee in front of him.
I blink to make sure I’m not crazy, but ...it’s him.My stranger from the club.
Except instead of wearing a suit, he’s dressed in a T-shirt and jeans and has a Voodoo Kings hat on his head, shading his eyes—eyes that are looking directly at me.
There’s no tint on the windows of Elijah’s truck, so there’s absolutely nothing to hide that I’m staring at him. Recognition is stamped on his features.
The man in a suit slows as he approaches the café. He pulls a thick newspaper folded in half out from under his arm and drops it on the table in front of my stranger as he walks by, not even missing a beat.
My stranger never looks at the man. Never looks at the newspaper. He’s completely focused on me.
Elijah is talking, but his words sound like they’re coming from underwater because my head is churning with what I just saw.
Was that a drop?
Who is he?
We pass the café and my stranger’s stare burns into me. As though compelled, my head turns to hold his gaze as Elijah’s truck continues forward.
“Tempe. Temperance?”
I jerk my attention back to Elijah. “What?”
“You just went catatonic. What the fuck’s going on?”
