Devil's Kiss (Hellhounds Motorcycle Club Book 1) by Kathryn Thomas

behind him and pulled the top up and latched his side as I did the same on my side. He didn’t look at all comfortable in my little car and I looked out of my side window to hide my smile.
     
    “Where to?”
     
    He had fixed us a simple lunch of sandwiches and sodas while I showered, but that smoked turkey hadn’t set all that well. “I’m not that hungry. What do you want?”
     
    “Well… we could try that place you stormed out of. What was the name of it? Lord Have Mercy?”
     
    “Lard Have Mercy,” I corrected.
     
    “Yeah. That place. I would still like to try the beignets and chicory coffee. I left in a bit of a hurry last night and didn’t have a chance to actually try them.”
     
    I flushed at the mild rebuke, but he was grinning playfully at me. “Okay. That will be fine.”
     
    “Will you actually stay and have dinner with me this time?”
     
    I wanted to snap at him for being an ass, but I guess I deserved that, and it was obvious he was just needling me. “So long as you aren’t an asshole, yes.”
     
    “Fair enough. How do I get there from here?”
     
    I gave him directions and we arrived just as it began to rain, big drops that promised there was a toad strangler was on the way. He pulled up and stopped close to the door so I could hop out and dash under the covered front door to wait for him. He found a spot at the far end of the lot just as the heavens opened up and I had to giggle as I watched him squeeze out of the car ass first. MX5s weren’t designed for big, muscular, Americans, especially with the top up. He plodded, hunch shouldered, through the rain and then ran his hands through his hair when he stepped under the covering to squeegee the water out of it. Damned if it wasn’t a sexy move and I wondered if he did it on purpose.
     
    “You ready?” he asked as he opened the door for me.
     
    I stepped in and the smells I normally like so well assaulted me.
     
    “What?” he asked as I stopped.
     
    “I need some air,” I gasped as I stepped quickly around him and back outside. I took a couple of deep breaths and the queasiness began to fade.
     
    “Are you okay?” he asked as he joined me, taking me gently by the elbow.
     
    “Wow! That turkey sandwich is kicking.”
     
    “What?”
     
    “Lunch isn’t sitting that well,” I explained. “When I walked in there, the smells got to me. I thought I was going to puke.” I took another deep breath. “I’m feeling better now.”
     
    “Are you sure? You want to go home instead?”
     
    “No. I’m fine now.”
     
    “Morning sickness?”
     
    “Kind of early for that, isn’t it?”
     
    He shrugged. “Beats me. One of the old ladies in the club used to carry a plastic trashcan around with her after she got pregnant. She was puking all the time, almost from the time she found out. We called her the barf-a-tron. Not in front of her, of course.”
     
    “Weren’t you sweethearts,” I said flatly. “I’m feeling better. Let’s try this again,” I said as I stepped out of the way of a couple that was leaving.
     
    We enter Lard Have Mercy again. At first I thought I was going to be okay, but then the nausea hit me like a punch in the gut. I shoved Cain out of the way and made it out of the door before I embarrassed myself. I was bent over, hands on knees, gasping as I fought against my stomach when I felt his hand gently caressing my back.
     
    “As soon as you feel better, I’ll take you home.”
     
    It took several long moments of panting before I felt well enough to stand up straight. “I’m better now,” I said as I straightened, enormously proud that I hadn’t actually puked in front of the restaurant.
     
    “Wait here,” he said as he stepped from under the cover.
     
    He walked out in the pouring rain and brought the car up in front of the door. I was just about to make a dash for it when I saw him squeezing out again and I waited, not sure what he was doing. I hoped he didn’t want me to drive