Free Winter's Fire (Welcome to Covendale #7) by Morgan Blaze

bother telling you. So I’m sorry for that, too.”
    Her anger was melting away, despite her desperate attempt to hold onto the feeling. It was so much easier to be angry at him than to face the rest of what she felt—a tangle of powerful attraction, hopeless longing, and practical cynicism. But she just couldn’t bring herself to hurt him any more than he already was. “All right,” she said. “And I’m sorry for showing up there.”
    “Don’t be.” His gaze found hers and locked on, driving away the rest of her reservations. “You were doing your job, and I should’ve let you.”
    “Yes, well…” She shivered and stared at the table, waiting for him to end the conversation with some trivial goodbye and leave. He didn’t. Finally, she said, “Is there something else you want, Mr. Rhodes?”
    “Actually, there is.”
    She had to be imagining the rasp in his voice. “What is it?”
    “Please call me Adam.”
    “Right,” she muttered, looking up at him. She was really going to regret this. “Would you like to sit down…Adam?”
    “You don’t mind?”
    “No, I suppose I don’t.”
    He hesitated for a moment, and then slid into the booth across from her.
    Before he could say anything else, the waitress who'd served her approached with a salad in one hand, a pad in the other. “Here you go,” she said, placing the salad in front of Winter. “Let me know if you need more dressing, okay? Hey, Adam. Get you anything?”
    Adam smiled faintly. “Hey, Piper. I thought you quit this dump.”
    “A few more weeks. We have a nice, long vacation planned, and when we get back...” The waitress trailed off, blushing, and smiled at Winter. “You know this guy?” she said. “My condolences if you do.”
    “Well, I...uh...”
    “This is Winter,” Adam said smoothly. “She's in town on business, and we're working together. Winter, this is Piper. She's engaged to an old friend of mine.”
    “Hi, Winter. I love your name.”
    She couldn't help smiling. “It's nice to meet you,” she said. “I love your name, too. Congratulations on your engagement.”
    “Thank you.” Her blush returned for a moment. “That whole nervous bride thing is a myth, by the way,” she said. “He's jumpier than I am. Fussing over everything. I don't think the poor caterer's going to survive the wedding.”
    Adam laughed. “I have to see this. Just can't picture Jonah Dawson being nervous about anything,” he said. “I'd love a cup of coffee. And tell Jonah I said hey?”
    “Will do.”
    The waitress left, and Winter flashed a skeptical smile. “Do you know everyone in this town?” she said.
    “Well, not everyone. Just most of them.”
    “I see.”
    “It's not a big place.” He glanced at the bowl in front of her. “So, are you one of those salad girls?” he said.
    “Excuse me?”
    His answering laughter was insulting—until she realized he wasn't laughing at her. “You know,” he said. “Everybody goes out for dinner, and one girl always says, 'Oh, I'll just have a salad.' The salad girl.”
    “Oh.” She didn't know, but it was probably one of those social norms she was hopeless at understanding. Was it good or bad to be the salad girl? “Well, I'm afraid that's not me,” she said. “I ordered a barbecue burger and onion rings, and I'm getting pie, too.”
    Adam grinned. “You really are a fascinating woman,” he said. “Where are you going to put all that?”
    “Do I have to answer?”
     “No. You don't.” His smile faltered, and his expression grew serious. “Look, Winter...we really got off on the wrong foot. I mean—you know. This time. So could we start over?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Let's just pretend we haven't been at each other's throats the last few days,” he said. “Clean the slate. Act like we're colleagues who can get along and discuss things like adults, without letting—er, personal issues interfere.”
    “All right,” she said. “We can try that.”
    He smiled.