Page 4 of Paco
“Don’t want any.” He stood up and shrugged his jacket on. Picking up the bill, he glanced at her taut face. “The pie was good.” She glared at him, and he gestured her to walk in front of him.
When he went by the woman’s table, he jerked his head at her.
“Thanks for the soup and tea,” she said, her mesmerizing eyes stopping him.
“You’re welcome. You got somewhere to stay?”
Nodding slowly, she chewed on her lower lip.
“I overheard your conversation on the phone. You really gonna haul your ass outside in this freezing rain?”
Sinking down in the faux-leather seat, she broke eye contact. “I don’t have a choice,” she whispered.
“Are you gonna pay your bill?” Irritation laced Holly’s voice.
Ignoring her, he stood silent by the woman’s table. She looked up at him. “What? We all gotta do junk we don’t want to sometimes.” She resumed chewing the corner of her bottom lip.
“I’m getting a room at the motel for the night. Come stay with me.”
Her eyes widened. “I need to bring in some money tonight, but thanks.”
“I’ll take care of that. You’re all stuffed up, and you look like you’re miserable.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s your call.”
She watched him for a few seconds, suspicion shining in her eyes. And then she ran her gaze over him, slow and unabashedly. The ringing phone broke in on her assessment of him, and she groaned when she looked down at the screen.
“What do you want now?” She brought her slender fingers to the base of her throat. “Who told you I was still in the diner? You got people spying on me? Really, Bobby? Anyway, I’m just getting ready to go back out.”
Paco saw her face tighten and her fist clench.I should take off. Why the fuck am I getting in the middle of this shit she has going on?The truth was he wanted to help her. She seemed as if she’d stumbled into a world in which she didn’t belong. It was like she lost her way, and for reasons he couldn’t articulate or even understand, there was something about her that touched him.
She placed the phone inside her skimpy short jacket. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
He chuckled. “No. Are you?”
Shaking her head, she laughed, and it was sweet and soft and sparkling like dew on green grass in the spring. Scooting toward him, she grabbed her purse and stood up.
Without saying anything, he walked over to the cashier and paid the bill. Holly reclined against the wall, watching him intently. Several men at the counter stared at the young woman who stayed close to him. He told the cashier to give Holly her tip, and then he walked outside into the freezing rain, the woman following.
He opened one of the saddlebags and took out his waterproof motorcycle jacket. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Put it on. It’ll keep you dry.” She slipped it on and jumped on behind him. The roar of his Harley competed with the howling wind, and as he rode away, he caught a glimpse of Holly standing by the window, her face pinched.
Roady’s Motel looked like hundreds of others off interstate highways strewn across the country. It had two sets of external metal stairs leading to the second floor. It wasn’t a total dump from the outside, but it looked like the type of place that travel-weary people stayed alongside drug dealers, pimps, and prostitutes.
Fitting the key into the doorknob, Paco turned it, opened the door, and switched on the overhead light. The room had one large bed, two chairs, and a small table. A TV sat on top of a scratched-up long dresser. He closed the door behind him and looked sideways at the woman, who stood quietly by the bed.
“What’s your name?” he asked as he dropped a small satchel on the table.
She jumped. “Misty. What’s yours?”
“Paco. You need to use the bathroom?” She shook her head. “I’m gonna get out of these wet clothes.” Before he closed the bathroom door, he looked behind him. “And don’t think of stealing any of my shit. I’m not gonna be happy if I have to track you down in the rain.” Without waiting for her to answer, he closed the door.
Twenty minutes later, he came out with a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet clothes in hand. Going over to the closet, he saw that Misty hadn’t moved an inch since he’d gone into the bathroom. “Have a seat. You want something hot to drink?”
“I’m good,” she said, going over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. “I’m not feeling so good.”
“Don’t mind me. Go to sleep if you want.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him, her gaze focused on his bare chest as he hung up his clothes. He turned toward her. “Like what you see?”
Quickly, she averted her gaze and stood up. “I’m going to take a warm shower. I’ll be done soon.” She scurried out of the room.
