Page 15 of Angel’s Claim

"Depends on how you look at it."

"How do you look at it?"

He doesn't answer right away. Just takes another turn, and I lean with him like we've been doing this for years instead of minutes.

"I look at it like I made a choice," he says finally. "And I don't regret it."

We pull up in front of a small diner with a hand-painted sign that reads *Rosie's* in cheerful red letters. Angel kills the engine, and the sudden quiet feels deafening after the roar of the bike.

He climbs off first, then turns and offers me his hand again. I take it and swing my leg over, wobbling slightly as my feet hit the pavement.

"You okay?" he asks, still holding my hand.

"Yeah. Just… My legs feel weird."

"That's normal. First-time thing. It'll pass."

He doesn't let go of my hand as we walk toward the diner entrance, and I don't pull away.

The diner is exactly what I expected. Red vinyl booths, checkered floors, a long counter with mismatched stools, and the thick smell of coffee and bacon.

A waitress in her fifties with graying hair approaches immediately, her eyes lighting up when she sees Angel.

"Morning, Angel," she says warmly, then her gaze drops to our joined hands and the cut I'm wearing. Her smile widens. "And who's this?"

"This is Bree," Angel says. "Bree, this is Donna. She makes the best pancakes in three counties."

Donna laughs. "Flattery will get you everywhere, honey. Come on, I've got a booth in the back."

She leads us to a booth near the kitchen, and Angel slides in across from me. Donna sets down two menus and pours coffee without asking.

"So," Donna says, looking at me with unconcealed curiosity. "You new in town?"

"Just got here last night," I say.

"And you're already wearing Angel's cut. That's fast work."

I feel my cheeks heat. "He loaned it to me because I was cold."

"Mm-hmm," Donna says, and the knowing look on her face tells me she doesn't believe that for a second. "You know what you want to eat, or you need a minute?"

"What do you recommend?" I ask.

"Pancakes," Angel says immediately. "Trust me."

"I had pancakes last night," I point out.

"These are better."

Donna laughs. "He's not wrong. I'll get you a stack with eggs and bacon. That work?"

"Perfect."

"The usual for you, Angel?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Donna."

She disappears toward the kitchen, and I wrap my hands around my coffee cup.