Page 1 of Pretty Little Scars

PROLOGUE

TUCKER

Five Years Ago

Imake the thirty minute drive over to Bitterroot Valley every Tuesday so I can have lunch at Kay’s Diner. Do I love the food there? Not particularly. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fine. But the cheeseburger and fries aren’t what’s brought me in here for the past year without missing a Tuesday.

I used to come in once a month with my friend Brooks Blackwell after we took a ride on our Harleys around the valley. We still have a standing ride day, but once every thirty days isn’t nearly often enough for me to seeher.

The brunette with the kicking curves and glacier-blue eyes.

The woman whose stingy smile is etched in my mind and the only thing I see when I close my eyes.

Have I asked her out? No. But I will.

Eventually.

I’m in no hurry regarding most things in my life. I like to take my time, think things through.

For now, I like to come in here for lunch on Tuesdays, sit in my usual booth in the corner, and flirt with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

I set the laminated menu aside, knowing exactly what I’ll order. When she walks over to me and her blue eyes brighten at the sight of me, I can’t help but smile at her.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” she says sarcastically. Her voice is pure fucking sin. A little raspy, and a lot sexy. She rests her hand on her hip and immediately fills my mug with coffee. Her dark hair is up in a high ponytail, her gorgeous face is clean of makeup, and her lips quirk, making me want to bite them. “You’re late.”

I lift an eyebrow and check the time. “It’s 1:05.”

“Late,” she says again.

“Did you miss me?” I ask her, leaning back in the seat, taking her in.Fuck, she’s beautiful.Her cheeks darken a little as she tucks a few stray whisps of hair behind her ear. I want to do that. I want to feel that silk in my fingertips. Her Kay’s Diner T-shirt molds over her body perfectly, but not provocatively. There’s a tattoo peeking out of the sleeve on her right biceps, and I want to know what it is.

“Thought maybe you fell off that death trap out there.” She gestures at my bike with her chin.

“You’reworriedabout me.” I rub my hand over the scruff on my chin and smile smugly. “That’s even better. You could go for a ride with me, and I’ll show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

A shadow slips behind her eyes, but before I can say anything, she shakes her head.

“Hard pass. Your usual today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nods and walks away to put my order in, and while I sip my black coffee, I watch her flit around the restaurant,taking orders, delivering plates, and closing out checks. Kay’s is a typical 1950s-style diner with a black-and-white checked floor, red vinyl seats, and a jukebox in the corner playing an old Madonna tune from the ’80s. There’s a long bar with red-topped stools, and the milkshakes rival Sundae’sover in my hometown of Silver Springs, but I’ll never admit to that out loud.

Before long, she brings my basket of food and sets it down, along with my usual bottles of ketchup, mustard, and a side of ranch.

My eyes flit to her name tag.

D.

“Are you ever going to tell me what theDstands for?”

Delicious.

Delectable.

Damn amazing.

Dirty.