The Gravedigger's Brawl Read Free Page A

‘The bitch fell off’ on the back.”
    Noah laughed, holding out his hand to make Wyatt stop. “You have a low opinion of my taste in men.”
    â€œNot low. Just . . . you know, leather-bound and hairy.”
    â€œYou suck,” Noah said as a woman with purple hair came up to take their orders.
    She must’ve caught Noah’s words, because she grinned at Wyatt and said, “You’ll be popular in certain circles then.”
    Noah threw his head back and cackled. Wyatt could feel himself blushing, thankful for the low light and the heavy curtains on the windows.
    â€œWhat can I have Ash make for you?” the woman asked as she rested her hands on the edge of the table.
    Wyatt fought the urge to lean away from her. She had piercings everywhere: in her eyebrow, in her nose, one in the side of her lip, and so many in her ear that she probably picked up NPR on clear nights. Her long hair was done in a beautiful array of old-fashioned curls and loose braids, only it had royal purple streaks and white feathers through what appeared to be natural black. She was wearing a corseted dress over fishnet tights, outrageous heeled boots, and velvet gauntlets on her wrists.
    â€œWhat’s good?” Noah asked, unperturbed. They hadn’t been given menus.
    â€œOh, you’re fresh meat?” the waitress asked with something like unholy glee as she turned and pointed them out to the bartender. “Hey, Ash, is this the guy?”
    The bartender nodded and pointed a dirty glass at them. “1951 tan Indian Chief. Hey, Noah.” He offered them a small smile.
    Noah nodded in return, the smile on his face threatening to become permanent.
    The waitress whistled and looked back down at Noah, impressed with the mention of the motorcycle. Wyatt felt distinctly out of place, and he took up his customary post in the background as he listened.
    â€œI’m Delilah Willis,” the waitress said. She offered her hand to Noah, then crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the side of Wyatt’s booth. “Nice to meet you. You got it with you?”
    It took a moment for Wyatt to decide that she was asking about the motorcycle.
    â€œNot today.”
    â€œWe better make sure your food’s good enough to get you to come back. That means I’ll be cooking it,” Delilah said, loud enough for the bartender to hear.
    â€œWe’re not up to fire codes right now,” the bartender replied.
    â€œCaleb’ll cook it then,” Delilah said without missing a beat.
    Wyatt couldn’t help but smile. Noah always managed to find some real characters. God only knew how.
    â€œWhat would Caleb recommend?” Noah asked.
    â€œYou want meat, non-meat, or other?”
    â€œCheeseburger?” Noah asked.
    â€œMeat, gotcha.”
    â€œClub sandwich?” Wyatt ventured.
    â€œOther. Coming right up,” Delilah promised, and turned away.
    Wyatt frowned at Noah, who was laughing silently. “How is a club sandwich ‘other’? What have you gotten me into?”
    Noah waved him off and shook his head, still chuckling.
    Wyatt watched Delilah as she headed for the little door at the end of the bar that led to the kitchen. Another waiter came almost at the same time, nearly running her over. He was at least a foot taller than she was, broad in the shoulders and lanky. He grabbed her and spun her around to keep from toppling her over, then smacked her on the ass as she continued into the kitchen.
    â€œDammit, Ryan, every time you do that I end up with a hand print on my ass for a week.”
    â€œYou love it.”
    â€œI know I do,” Delilah said before disappearing behind the swinging door.
    Wyatt couldn’t help but stare. He found the casual attitude fitting in the quirky establishment, but it still shocked him. He was also shocked to find that he was feeling more at ease, despite this not being his type of place.
    Ryan the waiter waved