Page 100 of Wild Embers
After shooting Blake a smug smirk, I place a large food order. I’m not sure what Blake prefers besides French toast, so I play it safe and order most of the menu.
The waitress nods and heads to relay the massive order to the kitchen.
“Nice of you to finally join me,” I direct to Santiago and Walker. “Are your phones broken?”
Walker’s face remains blank. “No.”
Santiago pulls his from his pocket and taps on the screen. “Mine seems to be fine.”
I shrug, gesturing to Santiago and Walker. “And neither of you thought to let me know you’d be late?”
“I got held up at the station,” Walker defends himself.
Santiago points a thumb to his left and flashes an infuriating grin. “I was picking up Blake.”
Blake crosses her arms and leans forward. “KidnappingBlake,” she remedies for him.
Santiago tilts his head from side to side and takes a sip from the dark bottle. “Semantics.”
Blake’s nostrils flare, then she turns to Walker. “I’d like to report a crime, Sheriff. Your deputy has forced me here against my will.”
Walker looks her dead in the eye, takes a chug of his drink, and answers smartly, “You’ll live.”
A laugh bursts from Santiago and me at the way her face grows scarlet, and a small smile tugs on Walker’s mouth as he takes another drink.
Blake’s eyes turn cold as she points a stern finger at each of us. “You three are on my shit list.”
Holding up my hands innocently, I proffer, “I have French fries coming. Is that enough to get me off the list?”
Blake glares. “It’s going to take more than French fries, Levi Harding.”
“Cheeseburger?” I add.
Her glare softens. “Closer.”
“I’ll take it,” I say with a smile.
The waitress returns carrying the food, setting down a basket of fries, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, soft pretzel bites, nachos, cheeseburgers, and beers. The smell of grilled onions and fresh-cut potatoes replaces the lingering scent of earthy fermentation for a moment.
Blake snatches a fry and an onion ring before anyone else has a chance to touch them. She munches away, then gives the three of us a flustered glance.
“Why am I the only one eating?” she questions as her eyebrows form a deep, puzzled crease. “Here,” Blake offers as she hands me a soft pretzel.
“I’ll wait,” I answer with polite refusal.
“Is it because I touched it?” Blake frowns at the food she tried to feed me. “Do you think I have cooties or something?”
Santiago snorts, and Walker just shakes his head.
“No, Blake. I’m making sure you eat first.”
Even under the neon beer signs and dim fluorescent lights, I track how her cheeks color with an abashed hue.
Beautiful.
Santiago’s hand hovers above the untouched mozzarella sticks, and I give him a look that promises pain if he picks one up.
He lets out an annoyed huff. “Seriously?”
