Page 20 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

Cohen’s Garage. The logo was made out of a gear. It was vintage in the way that it had once been a modern design—meaning, actually vintage. The short sleeves banded tight around his biceps, showing off the definition between shoulder and triceps. The cotton stretched across his pecs. I’d never fawned over a T-shirt so hard in my life. What I really wanted was to see it tossed on the floor of my motel room.

Another rush of desire pooled in my lower belly and the flush in my cheeks burned hotter. I was drooling. And staring.

You’re staring.

“I’m going to go.” I spun on a heel and marched away from the garage. The heat of desire shifted to the scorching flame of humiliation. Jesus. I was such a mess. His gaze burned into my backside as I scurried. There was no doubt he thought I was a lunatic.

“Got that phone?” Brooks hollered after me.

I pulled it from my pocket, holding it high in the air.

His chuckle followed me out of the parking lot.

After the disastrous stop at the garage, I hid in my motel room for the remainder of the day.

I turned on the TV, doing my best to get lost in another movie, but unlike the Pennsylvania hotel where I’d struck movie rerun gold, nothing caught my attention.

Not trusting myself to inadvertently wander back to Cohen’s Garage, I stayed within the confines of my room until my stomach growled and I went in search of food. My first stop was the office, hoping I’d find a restaurant or two willing to deliver.

“Hi, Londyn.” Meggie smiled as I walked through the door, the bell dinging over my head.

“Hi, Meggie. Do you have any places in town that would deliver dinner? I walked all over this morning and I’m worn out.”

Today’s miles in bad shoes had been a harder workout than I’d anticipated. Maybe because I was so out of shape. In Boston, I’d been religious about the gym up until I’d found Thomas with Secretary. I didn’t need glutes of steel or a flat stomach when the only person who saw me naked was me.

That, and I really liked delivery. I’d never bothered learning how to cook.

“Sure do.” Meggie opened a drawer and lifted out a stack of menus.

I raised my eyebrows as she fanned them on the counter. “More options than I would have expected in Summers.”

“If I could make a recommendation, how do you feel about Thai food? The place here makes the best curry you’ve had in your life.”

“I could eat curry.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” She smiled, picking up the phone. “If their delivery driver is coming, I might as well place an order myself.”

Meggie got on the phone, not even introducing herself before placing the order. I guess whoever she was calling knew it was her or had seen the motel’s number come up. I gave her cash for my part of the order and she took care of the rest.

As she talked, I paced around the reception area. All of the chairs were empty now, the locals who’d come in for coffee having gone home while I’d been in hiding.

The stretch in my legs was welcome after lying around all afternoon. I probably could have explored and found a dinner spot, but while I assumed Summers was a safe place, I didn’t go out on foot at night.

Habits and all.

After running away from home, I’d spent a few dark nights wandering alone. I’d never felt such crippling fear as those times. Nothing had happened to me, thankfully, but the fear had been paralyzing enough.

It had nearly driven me

home. The fact that it hadn’t, well . . . it spoke of how bad things really had been with my parents. Once I’d found the junkyard, I’d made it a point to always be inside before dark. If I was working late, Karson would escort me home.

To the Cadillac.

“Should be here in thirty,” Meggie said, the phone clicking onto the receiver.

“Thanks. You must be starving.” She’d ordered two plates of curry for herself and one for me. Or maybe their serving portions were small.

“The second’s for my neighbor.” She jerked her thumb to the wall. “I like to keep him fed.”