Rome's Chance (Reapers MC #6.6)(7)

We found an empty table near the far wall. Menus were stacked in a little rack, and he handed me one, smiling.

“Holy shit, is that you, Randi?” I heard a woman say, and I looked up to find Peaches Taylor standing next to our table. She wore a V-neck Starkwood Saloon T-shirt and a waitress’s apron. Peaches had been one of the most popular girls in high school. I hadn’t, so while we’d grown up together, we’d never really hung out much. But our lockers had been side-by-side senior year, and she’d always been nice and friendly.

Peaches had aged well, all long dark hair and a rack that put mine to shame. Seriously, if my bra was good, hers was spectacular. She wasn’t afraid to put it all out there in that V-neck, either. The girl probably made a fortune in tips. “You must be in town for the reunion tomorrow!”

“Um, yeah, I am,” I said, smiling at her. “I got in a couple days ago. Been visiting the family and stuff.”

She shot a speculative glance at Rome. “I don’t remember him being part of your family.”

I coughed, and Rome started laughing.

“We’re old friends,” he said. Peaches nodded, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. He also didn’t check out her chest, which I felt gave him major points. I mean, Peaches’… um, peaches were big enough that even I was having trouble keeping my eyes off of them.

Had she gotten a boob job?

My old classmate seemed to realize she wasn’t going to get any more gossip, because she started rattling off their specials for the night. Spicy Thai chicken pizza, BBQ wings, and some drink called a Smoke Jumper.

“We get all our meat local,” she continued. “And the bread’s fresh every day, too. We got a bacon burger that’ll blow your mind.”

Oh, that sounded good. I shot Rome a quick glance, trying to decide if I wanted to risk eating in front of him. Like, really eating, not just picking at a salad. If I’d been smart, I’d have snagged a snack before we left the house, but I hadn’t even thought of it. Then I decided what the hell, because this was Okanogan. Picking at salads wasn’t really a thing here. The towns might be small, but the beef was excellent.

Heh. Beef. I bet Rome has good beef, my inner perv whispered, and I coughed. Both of them looked at me, and I covered quickly, “I’ll take one of those bacon burgers.”

“Make it two,” Rome added. “Extra fries. You want anything to drink?”

“A Coors Light sounds good,” I told her, even though I hadn’t had one of those in forever. It seemed to fit the atmosphere.

“I’ll take a Coke,” Rome said, and then Peaches flashed us both a smile before hustling back toward the bar.

“No beer?” I asked him, raising a brow. I remembered him drinking when we first met, although not so much that I’d felt uncomfortable riding with him.

“Not tonight,” he said, eyes dark as they traced my face. “There’s this girl I’m trying to impress, and I don’t want to fuck it up. So tell me about the last eight years. Tinker said you went to college after you left. She was real proud of you.”

Oh my God, he asked her about me!

“Um, yeah,” I said. “I went to community college and got trained as a dental hygienist. I sort of figured that I’d use that to support myself while I got a teaching degree, but it turns out I really love working on people’s teeth. It’s tangible, you know? If we do our job right, it makes a huge difference to someone’s overall health, even if they don’t realize how important it is. Not taking care of your teeth can shave years off your life.”

I realized that I’d started to ramble, so I snapped my mouth shut before I started in on gum disease (which I knew from experience wasn’t a huge turn-on during a first date). But Rome’s eyes hadn’t glazed over—he was smiling at me. And my inner hygienist couldn’t help but notice that his teeth appeared to be in excellent condition.

“I feel the same way about being an EMT,” he said. “It’s hard, because you see a lot of bad shit. But we also have the chance to do a lot of good. I like making a difference.”

Peaches came back with our drinks, and I thanked her before taking a long swallow of my beer. I’d gotten used to drinking fancier craft stuff in Missoula, but this was good. Cold and refreshing—almost like water, but with a kick—and it kind of reminded me of going to the rodeo.

“So, how did you get into fire and rescue?” I asked.

“You could say I was born into it,” he said, smiling. “You know smoke jumping was started not far from Hallies Falls, right?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I went on the field trip to see the base camp like every other kid in town.”

“Well, my grandpa was one of the first,” he said. “Right before World War II. Then he got drafted and they sent him jumping out of planes in Europe. After the war, he came back and fought fire until he got too old, and even then he was still training new guys. My dad did, too. I stepped out of a plane for the first time when I was fourteen. Illegal as hell, this side of the border. But the McGuires aren’t real big on following the rules, and we had the connections to make it happen.”

“Wow,” I said, trying to decide if that was crazy or awesome. “I can’t imagine jumping out of a plane as an adult. I think I’d pee my pants or something.”