Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(13)

“I have to talk to my boss first—let him know I’m leaving,” Amber said though she did take his hand for a moment, squeezing briefly.

He waved her on. “Then go see it done.”

Surprisingly, Elliot was far too busy with his conversation to talk much as she explained she was leaving once she had crossed the floor to him. She didn’t try to drag him away from it, instead just letting him know she would message him later as to what time she would be back in the morning to work on the replica.

Kyrnon was waiting for her outside, a helmet in his hands, half-sitting on an impressive looking motorcycle parked at the curb. She would know a Harley when she saw one, but this definitely wasn’t one of those. It reminded her of the motorcycles from decades ago.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea in this dress,” Amber said, forcing her eyes from it to him.

“Nonsense.” His gaze dropped to her legs, the appreciative smile that curled his lips making her glad her height afforded her something. “Who’s going to complain?”

He shook the helmet a little, beckoning her closer, and before she could talk herself out of it, she was reaching for it and pulling it on. Swinging a leg over his bike, he settled on it, reaching a hand out to help her gingerly climb on behind him.

“Oh, hold on.” Slipping out of his leather jacket, he handed it back to her, waiting until she had her arms through the holes before he turned back and started the engine.

Wrapping her arms around him, she clung to his back, pressing as close as she possibly could, but as close as she thought they were, it wasn’t close enough for him. He reached an arm around her, bringing her even closer until she could feel the heat of him through his shirt and the skirt of her dress clung to her thighs, but only barely.

She couldn’t think of a time when she had ever been more aware of someone before.

From the way she could feel the muscles in his back shift as he drove, or even the way his hard abdomen seemed to flex whenever one of her hands shifted.

There was nothing about Kyrnon Murphy that could be ignored.

The drive from Cedar to the restaurant he was taking her to wasn’t a long one, nor was it what she had been expecting once they arrived, though she was glad it wasn’t.

For most of her life, Amber had gone underdressed to dinners, events, and the like, but for the first time in what felt like years, she was overdressed for the restaurant—or diner, she should say—that Kyrnon parked in front of.

The Starlight Diner was one of those old school affairs, a place that looked like it was made of aluminum, with bright neon letters glowing on the side of it. The inside paid homage to the 50s, with the retro design and cracked vinyl booths—even a jukebox sat in one corner.

Chalkboards hung from the ceiling, proudly displaying the day’s specials and current menu. Resting on the length of the counter were a number of pies, displayed with tiny cards folded in front of them with the flavor scrawled in cursive handwriting.

Kyrnon walked ahead of her, still keeping hold of her hand as though he thought she might run away. It didn’t seem to matter that they had just met—at least officially a couple hours ago—he held her with a comfortable familiarity, as though they had known each other far longer than they had.

Amber couldn’t say she minded.

Sliding into the booth on one side, he ran a hand through his hair, making the strands stick out in spikes as he rested his elbows on the table now between them. She noticed the twin black bands that circled his bicep, and briefly wondered if those were his only tattoos. She didn’t doubt that he had already seen hers since it was displayed rather openly because of the cut of the dress.

The diner smelled of grease and fried sausage, but above all else, there was the scent of maple syrup that hung heavily in the air. Though she rarely got the time to indulge in a big breakfast due to her hectic schedule, it was one of her favorites.

“So,” he said after a moment, green eyes on her. “What do you think?”

Did he mean the diner’s appearance? Because despite her work, and the outfit she was wearing, she didn’t care very much about appearances — not that there was anything wrong with those that did as long as they weren’t shaming anyone.

But to answer his question … “I don’t know yet—we haven’t even ordered.”

To that, Kyrnon didn’t respond, but she did think she saw a ghost of a smile before he had his hand in the air, gesturing to a waitress on the other side of the floor, busy taking the order of a father and his son. She glanced in their direction with a smile, holding her finger up.

It was clear the pair knew each other from the easy way in which they interacted, and the moment she was free, the girl was skating through the tables in their direction, coming to an abrupt stop just short of them.

Up close, it was clear the girl was exactly that, a girl, no older than sixteen if Amber had to guess. She also had a mouthful of braces that she wasn’t afraid to flash at Kyrnon when she smiled.

“It’s been a while, Celt. Ma says you went out of town for a while.”

Celt?

Was that like a nickname? It made sense, him being Irish, but she still wondered about the story behind it.

“Had a job overseas,” he answered. “Where is Mildred anyway?”

“In the back with Freddy. Donnie quit last week.”

Kyrnon shook his head. “Told you the lad wouldn’t last.”