A Demon in Waiting (Crimson Romance) Read Online Free Page B

great, but I stick to the basics mostly.”
    “Maybe we can both step outside our comfort zones a bit.” His grin widened, eyes narrowed, and suddenly things down below in Ariel’s body clenched.
    She wheezed and held her menu in front of her face. “Okay. Sounds good.”
    When the waitress arrived, Hitch gave the woman a winning smile and that made her cheeks flush. “What’s the best thing on the menu … ” He narrowed her eyes at her left breast, ostensibly reading her nametag. “Ella?”
    She giggled. “I like the chicken-fried steak. It’ll probably kill me one day, but that gravy is so good. Comes with mashed potatoes and whatever vegetable chef picked up today.”
    Hitch tapped the top of Ariel’s menu. “That sounds good, huh?”
    It did. She said as much.
    The waitress walked off with their menus, humming to herself. Ariel turned her attention back to Hitch. “What would you have ordered if you didn’t have her help?”
    He lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Probably the chicken and dumplings.”
    Ariel made a
blech
face.
    “What? It’s great!”
    “It’s not. I hate all that dough.”
    “Ah. Yeah, I guess the occasional raw bit would turn you off. We didn’t have much choice but to add fillers to everything. Flour’s cheaper than chicken.”
    “Wow.” She leaned back in her seat and laughed. “And I thought
I
was poor growing up.”
    He leaned his elbows onto the tabletop and rested his chin atop his fists. “Oh yeah? Well, obviously there were a lot of kids at the compound. Barely got by and none of the ladies worked, you know.”
    “It was just me and grandmother growing up. Things were tight because she was on a fixed budget and my parents never sent her anything.”
    “Where were your parents?”
    She felt her smile wilt and tried to replace it before he noticed, but couldn’t manage the feat. Instead, she gazed down at her utensil roll and studied the stitching on the napkin edges.
    “I’m sorry, was that insensitive of me?”
    She shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m just … ” When she dragged her gaze up to meet his, his expression had softened. It wasn’t exactly pitying, but there was a hint of apology in it. After sucking in some air, she continued. “People ask all the time, but answering doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know where my parents were —
are
. They were kinda losers, I guess. Dropped me off for a week one summer and never came back to get me. My grandmother thinks they committed some crime and fled to Mexico.”
    His eyes widened a bit.
    “Yeah.”
    The waitress arrived with their food, bequeathed them with some extra napkins and bid them to enjoy their meal.
    They ate in silence for a while, save for the occasional grunt of gastronomic pleasure, when suddenly Hitch dropped his fork and stared at his left palm. His brow furrowed as he scratched it.
    “What’s wrong? Is it itchy? My grandmother used to tell me if you had itchy palms it meant money was coming your way.”
    “I wish.” He chuckled as he slid out the booth. “Nah, I think it’s just a bit of a residual allergic reaction. I must have touched some detergent or something that didn’t agree with me. I’ll be right back.”
    “Oh.” She watched him stand and stride toward the restrooms. When he disappeared beyond the doors, she allowed herself a little giggle.
    He was a normal guy for a hitchhiker. Well, sort of. If he’d been solvent and not so damned transient, he might even be the kind of man she’d let take her out. She liked that he had a little something left to learn. Too many men knew too much about the wrong stuff and it gave them these sort of indefatigable god complexes that rendered them ridiculously selfish and excessively arrogant. She knew the type all too well working in advertising. Men like that were a dime a dozen.
    She’d had one.
    Hitch was practically a palate cleanser in comparison.
    • • •
    John leaned against the men’s room’s outer