Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [118]
For the first time in twenty-five days, he smiled.
“Hey, Asha!” Colin called as he rushed into the restaurant. “I just saw a limo going up the hill. I think maybe it dropped Jago off.”
Asha was testing the new taps on the soda machine. The supplier had installed the Orange Crush and Grape Crush feeds to the fountain setup today. Her hand shook on the glass she was holding as she filled it with grape soft drink.
She told herself to stay calm. There was more than one limousine in Kentucky.
But then she heard the roar of the Harley and her heart did a flip. Jago was back! She tried not to give in to the excitement, the exhilaration of knowing he’d returned, but couldn’t stop it. Taking a steady breath, she tried to reach down deep inside herself to find some proper indignation. How dare he go off with no explanation and two brief phone calls!
“In twenty-five long days,” she muttered under her breath. “Okay, so I was counting.”
“Hoo hoo . . . Jago is back.” Colin rushed out the door to welcome him, followed by Delbert, Sam and Derek.
“Men. They always stick together,” she informed the paper turkey on the counter.
Netta sat down on the stool, then grinned. “What’s that you saying, sugarplum? Hey, your man is back. Go give him a proper welcome.”
“Don’t you dare hand out advice on how to handle my love life. I haven’t noticed you doing so well in yours.” Asha sipped her Grape Crush, determined to play hard-to-get for a few minutes. “Besides, he’s the one who left. He knows where to find me.”
“Don’t do as I do, do as I say.” Netta popped half an Almond Joy into her mouth. “One of us should be ‘getting a little’—hmm . . . ah. . . . grinning.”
One-by-one, the men came straggling in, Liam bringing up the rear since he’d just pulled up. His eyes locked with Netta’s for a moment, but then he glanced to Asha. “Jago’s back.”
“I told her,” Colin said, picking up a screwdriver to finish affixing the shelf she wanted for a potter over the jukebox. “She’s doing her female deep-freeze thing.”
The Harley roared again, summoning her outside. “Blasted man,” she grumbled.
Netta clucked, swiveling on the stool to watch her. “You run along and enjoy Sexy Lips. I’ll close up the restaurant.
Oo-it can defend me with his monster screwdriver if any male or a giant leech should make untoward advances upon my tender body—not that anyone around here would bother.” She shot Liam a killing glare.
Asha wanted to drag things out and make Jago wait longer, but then she made eye contact with him through the glass door. His hair was longer, falling around his ears and neck in thick waves in bad boy fashion. Dressed in biker boots, leather pants and a new leather jacket, he was every woman’s fantasy come to life. How did one resist that?
Those green eyes glowed as he watched her give in, and come out the door to him. She couldn’t look away. With a warlock’s power, he held her spellbound.
Jago.
She blinked as she drew closer. His face, though wearing a smug half-smile, appeared haunted. He’d lost weight, and dark shadows smudged the skin around his eyes. Had he been sick?
She stopped an arm’s length away, loving him, anxious over him. “Twenty-five days and two lousy phone calls,” she chided softly.
Not bothering to say a word of explanation or to beg her forgiveness, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and, in a magician’s pass, he held out a small black box. A ring box. For a moment, she didn’t breathe, didn’t dare hope. It would be too painful if she built castles in the air only to have it contain a pair of earrings.
“Take it,” was all the silly man said. He shoved the box toward her.
His eyes reflected love, yet were troubled by whatever he had been through this past month. But she saw there was a deep panic in their glimmering depths. Jago was scared. She doubted he’d ever been scared before in his whole life, so assured he was