“I’ll talk to you later, Leo,” Oscar grouched (see how funny I am?), and made for the back door, dipping down to get through.

“I saw you doing shots over there with the girls,” he said, laughing as I tipped my head forward onto his chest, breathing in his earthy scent.

“They hated me in high school,” I informed him. “But now they love me. Because I’m with you? Because I’m California Cool now? Hard to say. And whyyyyy aren’t you riding me in a buggy right now?”

“Sounds like you’re ready to go home, Sugar Snap.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head while I played with his shirt buttons.

“Oh, God, do you know what it does to me when you call me that?” I sighed. “It makes me want to do the splits.”

“The splits?” he asked, that corner of his mouth lifting.

“On your face.” I patted his cheek as his jaw dropped open. “Okay, time to go.”

Calling a quick good-bye to Chad and Logan, he hurried me out the back door, down the sidewalk, and into his car before I had a chance to say, “Hey, nice house, hope it’s thoroughly warmed now!”

I yelled this particular gem under Leo’s arm while he fumbled with my seat belt.

“Leo, Leo, Leo—God, I love saying your name,” I said, under his arm and up to the sky. He knelt by my seat, sweeping my hair back from my face and looking deeply into my eyes. Because he was searching for answers there? Or because he was checking to see how drunk I really was? “I thought about you all week, you know.”

“You did?” he asked, his pleasure evident even through the concern.

“Stop looking at me that way. I’m drunk, but I’m not too drunk to know some things.”

“What things do you know, pretty girl?” His palm swept across my cheek, cradling my face, his fingers resting lightly on the back of my neck.

“I know what you were up to in there, with your big sexy hand on my back all night, marking your territory.” I tugged at his shirt, bringing him in closer, then kissed his nose, his eyelids, his forehead, and finally his chin.

“What if I was?” He inhaled quickly as I nibbled his jaw. A muffled groan escaped him as I wound my hands into his hair, then kissed a path straight toward his mouth.

“I know a much better way to mark your territory,” I breathed, then covered his mouth with a hot, wild kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth as his hands became rough and unsteady.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice full of need and want, and I luxuriated in the knowledge that I could make him this way. “Tell me what you want.”

I pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “I want you to fuck me raw, then come all over me. I want to be covered in you, slippery and wet and filthy dirty.”

Leo froze. Then pulled back to look at me. And sucked in air like he didn’t have nearly enough.

I’d love to tell you we made it back to my house. The most I can say is we made it just barely of town, and defiled a country road in the most glorious way.

Chapter 21

“Order up! I’ve got scrambled with dry rye, two Reubens, one with pickle, and a black cow. Let’s get a move on, shall we, ladies?”

I laughed as dish towels from all four corners of the diner came flying in my direction. Maxine and the others trooped over to retrieve their orders from the window, and I earned a wink from her. I’d spent the morning in the weeds when Carl called out sick. I’d handled the grill, prepped for tomorrow, and started on the cleanup, staying ahead as best I could.

“How’s it going, Mrs. Oleson?” I called out as the bell tinkled, alerting me to a new customer.

Mrs. Oleson waved and called out, “Roxie, will you be here tomorrow morning? I need to order something for the mayor’s luncheon next week. Can you do a pineapple upside-down something?”

“How about pineapple and orange, with a brandy glaze?”

The entire diner oohed and aahed, and she gave me the thumbs-up. Giving a little curtsey, I turned back to marrying the ketchup bottles behind the counter, whistling along with the jukebox as I combined the half-bottles. Hearing the bell tinkle once more, I called over my shoulder, “Welcome to Callahan’s! Grab any open seat; a waitress will be right over with . . .”

My voice trailed off as the scent of patchouli reached me. No way. I turned to see my mother standing just inside the door, Aunt Cheryl right behind her. She was tan, healthy looking, and positively beaming.

“You’re not supposed to be— What are you— I mean, you’re home!” I blurted. Oops.

“Well, welcome home to you too,” she replied, her voice warm and happy. Her arms and hands were covered in henna tattoos, she had a new piercing in her nose, and her wild hair was in two frizzy braids.

Overcome with the need to hug her, I rushed out from behind the counter. A wave of patchouli washed over me, strong and earthy, and for the first time in a long time, I was very glad to see her.

But how odd that my first thought was, damn, was it time for her to come home already?

“A little help here?” Aunt Cheryl was struggling with what appeared to be both sets of their luggage.

“Oh, Aunt Cheryl, I’m so sorry, let me help you with that,” I exclaimed, snatching up duffel bags and tote bags filled to the brim with Spanish flamenco fans, Chinese New Year masks, a bamboo—

“Ma! You can’t just carry a bong around like a purse!” I threw a dish towel over the bamboo pipe.