Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas #1)(25)

Jake was already outside the bathroom when I came out. Guess men do piss faster than women. Once we were in the vehicle, Jake turned the ignition and nearly jumped out of his skin. Music from the radio blared from the speakers, the windshield wipers screeched across the window at full speed, and the flashers blinked wildly.

He turned everything off and tossed a look my way as a vein on his temple bulged. “If you so much as crack a smile, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you.”

My brain told me to keep a straight face, but deep inside, I grinned my ass off.

…

“Would you stop?” Jake yelled, scowling at me.

“What?”

“You’re tapping your fingers on the armrest.”

“And…?”

“And you’re driving me insane,” Jake said. “First you were whistling, then humming, now tapping. Can’t you sit still?”

“You aren’t talking, and I’m bored.”

“Well, at least if I bore you to death, you won’t have to worry about Felts anymore. Find something else to occupy your time.”

“I’m hungry,” I told Jake. “Can we stop and get something to eat?”

“We’ll eat when we get there. It’s an hour away.”

“Look, superhero, maybe you can do without food for an extended period of time, but I can’t. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I could use some caffeine in my system.”

“As fidgety as you are? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Can I drive, then?”

“No.”

“Jeez, you have control issues.”

“So do you.” Jake glanced over at me. “You don’t have any.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I want to eat.”

His eyes never left the road as my demand went unanswered.

“I don’t appreciate being ignored, Jake.”

“Yeah, right. Like anyone could ignore you.”

“If I had something to eat, I’d be quiet.”

He paused a moment, scrubbed at his face. “Fine. We can stop at a place in the next county. But you better be quiet afterward or I’m going to duct tape your mouth and handcuff you to the luggage rack.”

I smiled. Jake could be a decent guy when he wasn’t being such an asswipe.

He whipped into the parking lot of Junior’s Diner, which sat next to a Dairy Queen. I practically jumped out of the Explorer, excited by the notion of food. The diner resembled a big red barn, decorated on the inside with a western theme. Spurs and saddle blankets decorated the walls, along with some black and white pictures of John Wayne.

The waitress rushed past us carrying a pot of hot coffee and a tray of food. “Hi, y’all. Have a seat, and I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

Jake chose a small booth in the corner away from the dozen other customers in the restaurant. The waitress came back with two menus in her hand.

“We don’t need those, “Jake told her. “Two cheeseburgers, two fries, and two large sweet teas, extra lemon.”

The waitress hurried off to turn in our order before I had a chance to stop her.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“Maybe I didn’t want a cheeseburger,” I said, raising my voice slightly.

“It’s easy, and we’re in a hurry. I don’t want you parading around in public any more than you have to. You draw attention.”

“No I don’t!”

“Shhh!” Jake whispered. “See what I mean? You don’t know how to blend in. You’re a magnet.”

“That’s not true. Every time we have attention turned on us, it’s because of something you’ve done, not me. I swear you do things to purposefully force me into having a reaction.”

“Face it, honey. You’re a drama queen.”

The waitress came back with our iced teas and a small bowl of lemon wedges. I immediately picked up a slice, dumped salt all over it, and took a bite. Bitter juice splattered into my mouth as I sucked the lemon wedge clean. Instantly, my jaw clenched and my face puckered.

Jake watched me go for another before turning his attention back to the waitress. “Is Junior here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s in the office going over numbers,” she said. “I’ll send him out.”

Jake nodded a silent thank you to her and glanced back at me as she hurried away. “You have a lemon fetish or something?” he asked.

“Depends. How much do you have to like something before it’s considered a fetish?”

A slight smile curved his mouth. “Are you going to let me have any lemon for my tea?”

“Probably not.”

“Then it’s a fetish.” Jake peered over my left shoulder at something behind me. “How’s it going, Junior?”

I turned to look and did a double take. In my mind’s eye, I’d pictured Junior as a pipsqueak accountant, wearing dress pants and a tie. What I saw was completely different.

Junior was a tall, burly Native American with a thick braid of dark hair he swung over his shoulder. He wore western garb from head to toe, including a black Stetson hat, and a large buck knife hung from his side in a leather sheath. He had a bottom lip full of chewing tobacco and smelled sweetly of wintergreen.