Mine to Keep (NOLA Knights #3) - Rhenna Morgan Page 0,24

hand in Bonnie’s. “You want me to help you pick something out?” He pointed to the board. “You can either just get a plain flavor, or get one of the special kinds they’ve got up there. Then you pick three extra toppings.”

She couldn’t talk. Could barely even breathe. Emerson’s hand was so tiny in hers. So warm. And he didn’t seem the least bit shy about the action he’d taken.

But damn—he’d completely shaken her whole fucking world.

He motioned to all the Post-it notes around them. “Those things are special creations other people have come up with mixing and matching. I’m gonna put one of mine up there after I see how it tastes.”

Special creations.

Toppings.

Fuck, she was never gonna make it through this night.

She cleared her throat—or at least tried to—and squeezed Emerson’s hand. “How about you order for both of us? You get one. I’ll get the other.”

The smile he hit her with would’ve knocked her over if he hadn’t been holding her hand, and the tightness behind her chest threatened to snuff out her heart altogether.

Cassie leaned in close and splayed one hand between Bonnie’s shoulder blades. “You okay?”

Hell no, she wasn’t okay. Okay was a fresh iced tea when it was August and 105 degrees outside, or someone tipping you with a scratch-off lottery ticket and finding out you just got a free tank of gas. Spending a night with nice people and getting a glimpse of the good life when it was only going to disappear in hours was nothing short of cruel. “A little overwhelmed, if you want to know the truth.”

She chuckled at that and wrapped her arm around Bonnie’s waist. “Believe it or not, I absolutely get it.”

Bonnie doubted that. Just looking at Cassie, she could see how she’d fit in with the people around her. This lifestyle. She was pretty. Stylish. Always knew how to make people feel comfortable. The same held true for Evie.

The best Bonnie could claim was a decent skill for talking drunks out of driving and a willingness to pull out a baseball bat if it meant breaking apart a late-night brawl.

Minute by minute, they made their way to the front of the line. Everyone placed their order except for Bonnie, who waved Emerson toward the cashier in her place. Evie, Emerson and Cassie all watched the staff behind the plexiglass doing their thing with the ice cream on the cold metal tables, but all Bonnie could do was soak in the crowd.

The families.

The couples.

A few college students palling around on a weeknight.

And, of course, a few badass guards watching from the corner table.

Sorry, Bonnie. My parents say I can’t hang out with you anymore.

Did you hear about her mom? She was so shit-faced she plowed into a tree and bit it.

You don’t want to mix with her and her family. Bad blood, the lot of them.

God, she was pathetic. Twenty-five years old and she was still replaying the old cuts she’d been dealt in high school.

But every single word they’d said was true.

She’d come from trash.

It didn’t matter how long or hard she tried, her roots kept her locked in place.

“That’ll be $30.50,” the cashier said.

Before Bonnie could shake the stupor of her thoughts or the shock at such a high tab for ice cream, Evie handed over two twenty-dollar bills.

“Oh, hang on.” Bonnie slid her backpack off her shoulder and unzipped the front pocket. “Let me get you money for mine.”

“Don’t be silly,” Evette said, waving her off. “You’ve had a hell of a day. The least we can do is treat you for dessert.”

No hesitancy. Not so much as a blip of concern on the amount of cash changing hands or any indication of how vastly the scales of give-and-take were out of balance since the minute she’d met them. Still, the offer was a huge plus. She could hit Taco Bell for a full-size meal twice on a seven-dollar savings. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

She reached for her order when the lady who’d made it handed it over—four pretty rolls of ice cream with sauce artfully drizzled over the top of it—and followed everyone to a table near the guards.

Her stomach churned, not the least bit interested in the treat in front of her, and her mouth felt like she hadn’t had a drop to drink in days. Despite the chilled wind sweeping through the front door every time it opened and the coolers that kept the ice cream nice and cold, a clammy sweat blanketed