Free Run by Amanda K. Byrne Page B

it.”
           Trevor’s voice helped cut through the last dregs of the Lunesta I’d taken the evening before. “Wasn’t planning to get away with anything. I was hoping to make it a reality.” I leaned against the front of the diner. “Trevor?”
           “When?”
           There was a world of desire and want and trust in that one word. The weight of it crushed my chest, squeezing the air out of it. Maybe this was the wrong sort of distraction. Maybe I was forcing something into being. Putting him in a position he didn’t want to be in. “Whenever you’re willing.”
           “Fuck,” he whispered. He was quiet for another long moment. “You remember what I said about not wanting to be your fuck toy?”
           “Yeah.” Which was, I realized, precisely what I was making him into. Heat swept up my neck to flare out over my cheeks. “Shit. No more texting while half asleep. I’m sorry.”
           “You’re making it real hard to stick with that. How are you so sure it’s a good idea to trust me?”
           I scuffed my toe along a crack in the sidewalk, searching for the words. “That first night, you were ready to stop if I’d said no . You brought me home when I was too drunk for my own good and put me to bed. You didn’t kick me out the next morning when you left. You let me stay. You let me cook you dinner. There’s a hundred tiny reasons for it, but the biggest one is I just do . You’ve had plenty of chances to screw me over or take advantage of me, and you haven’t.”
           Gwen poked her head out the door and motioned for me to come inside. I nodded. “I have to go. Forget I said anything.”
           “Can’t,” he groaned. “You know all I’m gonna think about is what wild fantasies you’ve got hiding in that pretty head of yours.”
           “I smiled. “I wouldn’t call them fantasies. More like…bedroom activities I haven’t gotten around to trying yet. I leave the serious kink to other people.”
           There was a rustling noise, and I imagined him sitting up in bed, hair mussed, eyes sleepy. “You at work?”
           “Breakfast shift,” I confirmed.
           “Text me the address.”
           What? “Trev—”
           “Text me the address, McKenna. I gotta eat. Being able to see your face while I do it would make it even better.”
           Sweetness. Off-hand, casual sweetness. “Are you this nice to everyone?”
           “Mama raised me to be polite and treat a woman with respect.” More rustling, and I saw him rolling out of bed and reaching for the jeans he’d stripped off the night before, then shuffling across the room to the bathroom. “Nice guys do exist. We just get overlooked for the domineering assholes of the world.”
           I snorted. “I’ll text you the address if you let me off the phone.”
           “See you soon, darlin’.” He disconnected the call, and I texted the diner’s address to him as I walked back inside.
           “You eat yet?” Gwen looked up from where she was wiping down menus.
           I walked over to the counter and hefted the tub of napkin-rolled silverware. “No.” I’d stumbled out of bed that morning with barely enough time to shower and shoot off the inappropriate text to Trevor.
           “Go tell Tommy what you want. Don’t know why I bother opening this place so early sometimes,” she muttered.
           I did. For the people who didn’t take the sunrise for granted.
           Tommy, the other cook, was standing in front of the big stove, staring at it like he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it. “I’m pretty sure you turn it on and it heats up and then you throw raw food on it and it gets unraw.”
           He scowled. “Smartass. No, I think one of the heating elements is busted. Charlie said something about one side of