Chapter 16

Checking again to be sure no one’s attention was on her, Rogue turned down the farm road that lead to The Honey Depot as a large black truck took the corner too fast and sped past her going the other way. She had to swerve onto the shoulder to avoid them. She flipped the truck the bird and eased back into her lane, finding the restaurant easily. For a split second, she felt like someone was watching her, but the feeling eased quickly.

She parked, then pulled a guy’s picture out of her bag, memorizing his features. Denton Smith was his name. He was hiding out in Serenity, and the only intel on him was that he liked this restaurant, eating here a few times a week. So if she was lucky enough to catch him here, she’d follow him home. Otherwise, she’d ask a few questions, see if anyone knew anything about him.

She strode up the steps, watching through the windows before she even got inside. It looked busy, but no, so far she didn’t see him. She pulled open the door and-

What was that smell? Something harsh in all the right ways greeted her, making her falter just inside the door. Some part of her mind registered the Please Seat Yourself sign and she headed for a table in the corner where she could check out the entire place, then changed her mind on impulse, hitting the bar instead. It struck her that she was following the scent. It wasn’t food, although she smelled plenty of that, too. No, it was strong and deep, like a man’s cologne, but it was like no cologne she’d ever smelled. It was more like… an aura, or an attitude. Strong masculine attitude and roughened denim, and it wasn’t diminishing. She drifted to the second chair in from the retaining wall and more fell into it than sat in it, taking a deep breath, all thoughts of why she was supposed to be there falling right out of her head as she breathed through her nose and-

“Miss, miss! Are you ok?”

Rogue jerked as her conscious mind slammed back into her head. What had she been-?”

“Great,” the waitress next to her mumbled. “I’m gonna get Willow. I don’t get paid enough to do this shit.”

Rogue raised her hand. “No, I’m fine. Sorry. Don’t get… Willow.” Whoever Willow was. “Sorry about that. I’ve-ah, I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

The waitress put on an mm-hmm face and held up her pad and pen. “You ready to order?”

Rogue had no idea what they were serving but she didn’t want to make any more of a spectacle of herself. “Yeah, bring me a water and whatever the special is.”

The waitress, whose nametag read ‘Pam’, scribbled down the order and left. Rogue took a deep breath and gave herself a few moments to regain her composure.

When she had, she realized the smell she’d been so captivated by had dissipated quite a bit. She frowned, really hating what was happening to her. Maybe she should see a doctor? Wouldn’t it be a kick in the head if her werewolf problem was nothing more than a tumor pressing on her brain stem. Maybe Boe was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. The pendants, too.

Shit. Too depressing to contemplate. She didn’t want to leave this world tied to a hospital bed. She wouldn’t, either. If that’s what it came down to, she’d find something high to jump off of-

Crap! She was spacing again, sure as if she’d thought of the cop. That smell had done something to her brain, scrambled her circuits, reminded her of that time in Yosemite-

No. Not doing this again. She rallied her brain, brass-knuckled it into behaving, and turned slightly on the barstool so she could survey the other patrons. Smith wasn’t among them. No problem, she’d ask Pam about him when she got a chance. Linger over dessert if she had to. Come back tonight or tomorrow. Never were jobs that easy anyway.

She sat forward in her seat, letting the conversations in the restaurant wash over her, turning slightly every time she heard the bell over the door jingle, accepting her Rueben sandwich with honey for dipping with a confused smile, then trying it. It was good. Strange, but good.

From her vantage point at the bar, she could also hear all the conversations in the kitchen. A back door slammed. “Willow!” someone called, and a few more hellos were murmured. A soft female voice, so darn soft and sweet that it set Rogue’s teeth on edge spoke. “Hello, Bart. Hi, Mom, Pam, I’m so glad to see you today.”

Rogue raised her eyes to look through the long and narrow window into the kitchen, wanting to see the owner of that voice. It sounded too sweet and nice to be real. But when she saw the person who had been speaking, she figured it probably wasn’t an act. Some people were really that sweet, she knew, and this woman looked to be one of them.

Her hair was long and a honey-colored brown that shone in the overhead lights. Her skin was flawless and her eyes big enough and kind enough to belong to a Disney princess from the early years, back before they were badasses. Her cheeks were colored with a blush that looked to be permanent, from healthy eating and perpetual excitement, probably. Shit. Rogue knew that kind of girl. Everyone’s friend, always the person you went to when you were feeling down or sad, she would talk to anyone, lend out her last dollar, until some nutjob stalked her into hiding. Rogue didn’t like many women, but she found herself drawn to this one. She looked too sweet to dislike.

As if she felt someone looking at her, Willow turned and made eye contact with Rogue through the window. Rogue lifted her eyebrows and her chin. Hi. Then looked back down at her food.

But the door to the kitchen opened and Rogue looked up again. Willow was there, her pink cheeks and open stare pointed right at Rogue. She stood right in front of Rogue on the other side of the bar. “Do I know you?”

Rogue shook her head.

Willow came around the bar toward her. “I’m Willow.”

Rogue wiped her hands on her napkin, but before she could stick one out, Willow was putting her arms around her. Rogue turned her wrists inward to be sure Willow didn’t inadvertently feel the knives strapped to the inside of her arms. She chewed quietly and waited for the hug to be over. Anyone else would have gotten a push to the chest or maybe a backhand to the face, but not this woman. That would have been like kicking a puppy who licked your boot. Rogue could feel Willow’s gentleness seeping out.

Willow backed up and looked down. “Sorry, ah, I’m a hugger.” She blushed, her cheeks pinking up prettily. “I usually have more manners, I apologize.”

Rogue waved a hand. Whatever. Chew. Chew. Swallow.

Willow sat down next to her and stared hard at her. “It’s just that… well, I feel like I know you. Or like I want to know you.”

Rogue looked Willow up and down, her mind quiet. She didn’t mind being rude when someone got up in her grill, but she wouldn’t be with Willow. She understood exactly what Willow meant, was feeling a bit of it herself. “I’m Rogue.” Fuck, shouldn’t have given the real name. She was slipping.

“Rogue. Lovely. What a wonderful name, although it doesn’t describe you in the slightest. You’re gorgeous. You should be named fancy and beautiful, like Elizabeth, or Bronwyn or… or…” Willow snapped her fingers and pointed at Rogue. “Seraphina!”

Rogue laughed, surprised into it, then surprised that she’d done it. There wasn’t a lot of levity in her life and suddenly she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. She shook her head. “Sometimes it’s better not to stand out.”

Willow nodded like she knew the truth in that statement, then twisted her body on the bar stool like a small girl who’d been forced to sit still for too long. “How’s your sandwich?”

Rogue held up the half in her hand. “Surprisingly good. I wouldn’t have thought honey would go with a Rueben, but I like it.”

Willow clapped her hands together and something in the mannerism made Rogue think of her sister as a young girl. Although Amaranth had been more like Rogue, hard, suspicious, grown up way too young. So why would Rogue think of her now?

Willow smiled. “Oh yay! I’m so glad you like it. You absolutely have to try my skillet cookie. I make it with coconut flour, cricket flour, and yacon syrup, so, not only is it tasty, it’s super good for you, too. Full of protein.”

Rogue had been about to say yes until she’d heard cricket flour. Absolutely not. And yacon syrup? Wasn’t that an ingredient in dog food? She put her sandwich down and stared at it. “There’s no cricket flour in that, is there?”

“No, no, just my cookies. The farmers love them.”

Rogue shook her head. “Good thing you tell people first. Mess around and feed people crickets without their knowing and someone might get upset.”

Willow laughed, a tinkling, melodic sound, that soothed Rogue, almost made her feel better about the bug cookies. She stood up, then touched Rogue on the shoulder. “Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to say hi.”

Rogue didn’t want her to go. She shelved the thought, pushing aside the emotion in her expert manner. She had a purpose here, one that did not include making a new friend. Willow waved one last time and disappeared.

Rogue finished her sandwich. Dessert? Only if there was something bug-free. She waved down Pam, but instead of ordering anything else, she spoke the words that popped into her head. “Hey, you ever seen a guy named Denton Smith here?”

Pam’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

Rogue launched into her lie smoothly, without premeditation. “We ah, we kind of had a thing last summer and I was hoping to get back together with him, at least see what he was up to.”

She left it there, pasting an innocent, hopeful expression on her face, thinking Pam would tell her when the guy was most likely to be there. But instead, she hit pay dirt.

Pam’s face smoothed out and she looked Rogue up and down. “Oh. Yeah, well, I heard he’s caretaking the Watson building. Moved in upstairs of the warehouse. You know, free place to live and all that.”

Rogue nodded and smiled, a big fake one. “Totally, that sounds just like him.” She knew exactly where the Watson warehouse was. Historic building, sometimes used for weddings or graduations or reunions, but almost always empty until late spring. She could check it out that evening. If it was empty, she’d be in and out in no time at all. If the job really was going to be that easy, she almost would feel bad taking Rex’s money. Almost.

She paid, and headed out the door, faltering for just a moment when she felt eyes hard on her. A quick scan of the parking lot told her it was no one there. She knew it wasn’t coming from behind her. She strode forward, blinking against the setting sun, walking directly for whoever was watching her. If they had a weapon trained on her, her senses would tell her that, but they didn’t. She held up a hand to block the glare, and tried to see past the rays so strong they were like a physical thing, but the feeling was already gone. No one was watching her anymore.

She strode to where she’d felt the gaze on her, past it, then turned around so she could see with the sun at her back. Whoever had been watching her had been inside a large shed off to one side of the parking lot, a small window set in the middle of it.

Just an employee. She got in her car and left, headed toward downtown.