Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(53)

“Sit,” Brandon says as he pushes me down onto the red cushion.

I don’t have a say in the matter, apparently.

Not that I mind … because the moment my nose caught a whiff of that delish pie that just came by in another waitress’s hands, my brain immediately forgot what it wanted except for one thing.

Food. Now.

“Well … uh … hello there,” a waitress says with a deep voice. It’s the woman with the 80s hairdo. She’s looking Brandon up and down with no shame. “What can I do for ya? We don’t sell shirts here,” she jokes, laughing, then coughing heavily. Her clothes brush against my arm as she completely ignores me. They smell of cigarette smoke and bacon. What a combination.

“Sorry, I ran into a bit of trouble and didn’t have time to put a shirt on this morning.”

“Oh, do tell,” she says, leaning on the table right in front of me, blocking my view.

It’s as if she doesn’t even care that I’m here.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” Brandon raises his hand. “We’ve been driving for so long, and this diner’s got a delicious menu.”

She laughs with that rancid deepness again that sounds more like the gurgling of a dead fish, and it makes me wanna gag. “You got that right.” She stands up again and takes out her pen and notebook. “So what’ll it be?”

“Two pumpkin pies,” Brandon says, and he fishes in his pocket and takes out a few bills. “And two coffees, please.”

“Of course,” she says with a smile as she pens it down quickly. “Anything for you, sweetie.” She winks at him and turns around with a sassy sway in her hips, trying to capture his attention. I roll my eyes as she walks off. Thank fuck.

I sigh out loud. “Jesus, Brandon.”

“What?” He shrugs, but he’s clearly amused by her obvious crush on him.

I tilt my head. “Really? She’s twice your age.”

“So?” He tucks his money back into his pocket. “Some women know what they want and aren’t afraid to go after it.”

That was an obvious dig, and it’s got me clenching my fists so hard that my nails leave marks in my skin.

“Some women don’t know what’s good for them,” I say. “And you’re just using everyone to your advantage.”

“Hmm … that’s rich, coming from you,” he says.

Before I can respond, the lady comes back with forks and knives and sets everything down while we stare at each other in silence.

I wish I could stick the knife in his hands. Maybe I should, but I guess that would bring a lot of unwanted attention.

But the moment that woman opens her mouth again, I forget everything I’m thinking. “Here’s your coffee. Enjoy. The pies will be right up,” she says with a giggle. When she turns around again, she gives him another wink and a dirty lick of the lips before walking off.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.

“Fuck. Me,” I say, grunting.

“When?” Brandon jests.

“Oh, shut up.” I chuck my napkin at him. “You are not funny.”

“Never claimed to be,” he says, casually stirring his coffee.

I cock my head. “Do you get off on it or something?”

“Sometimes,” he says, taking a sip. “But mostly, I think of killing you. Now that really gets me going.”

“Ha. Ha,” I say. “Jesus, if I had your gun right now, I’d rather kill myself than spend one more second here watching you flirt with that … woman.”

“Aw, that hurts,” he says arrogantly. “But the fact that you’re jealous totally makes up for it.”

“Jealous?” I snort out loud. “Really? You think I’m jealous of her?”

“You just want me for yourself. Admit it.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more condescending laugh come from my mouth, but it had to be done.

“I don’t think so, dude,” I say, throwing so much sugar into my coffee it’s probably gonna hurt my teeth.

“You care too much,” he adds.

“Because I’m sitting here with a shirtless murderer in a diner as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Of course, I care,” I reply.

“Shhh …” he says, and he reaches for his pocket. The one with the gun. “Don’t make a scene.”

Right. Because I’m still under his watchful eye and still being held captive whether I like it or not. I almost forgot.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. You just want to show off,” I say.

“No, I’m just hungry and so are you,” he says, right as Miss Puckered Cigarette Mouth comes back with the pies.

“There you go, honey!” she says, still only looking at him.

“Thanks,” he says as we both grab our forks.

“Hope you enjoy,” she says, hovering as if she’s waiting for a compliment or something. It makes me want to stab her eyes out with this fork I’m holding in my hand.

“I’m sure we will,” he says, casually hinting for her to fuck off.

Good. I want her gone. I don’t like it when people actually like him. As if he’s a likeable human being with likeable abs and a likeable smile. He’s anything but likeable, but they don’t know that. They only see the charm and the fake mask he puts on. They don’t know all the evil he’s done. They don’t know how badly he’s been on my nerves ever since we’ve been stuck together.