The rest of the waitstaff had another hour of closing down to do, but Kim shooed Alyssa away after learning how long she'd been there. Alyssa made her way to the locker room, which was really a lounge with a row of small lockers for people to store their belongings during their shifts. Marco had loaned her a lock so she didn't have to worry about her purse, and she'd been so glad. Losing the little money she had would be devastating. How sad was that?

Still, she calculated her day's earnings in her head and knew she'd soon be in a much better place. And then there was what Kim had given her. In the privacy of the locker room, she counted-forty bucks! Feeling like she'd just won the lottery, she did a little jig right there in front of her locker.

And then the back of her neck flushed hot.

Don't let it be Marco. Don't let it be Marco.

He stood just inside the doorway to the lounge, watching her in a way that made her stomach flutter. "Were you just doing a happy dance?"

She smothered a groan and stuffed the money into her purse. "Maybe."

"And?" He crossed to the locker two down from hers and worked at the combination on his lock.

This close, the scars marking his arm stood out in stark relief. She hated that he'd been hurt in equal measure to how relieved she felt that he was okay. "Someone did something nice for me, that's all. It made me happy."

Marco faced her and rested a shoulder against the locker. "It doesn't take much, does it? To make you happy." He reached out, as if to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, but pulled back. "It never did."

At the almost touch, Alyssa's pulse raced until she felt a little lightheaded. She nearly whimpered from the desire to feel the gentle sweep of his flesh against hers and willed him to break through the sad, troubled expression on his face and touch her. Everything in her wanted to close the distance between them, push up on tiptoes, and prove that the reality of kissing Marco was miles better than years of imagining it.

"So, uh..." He cleared his throat. "Good day?"

"Um, yeah. Definitely." She struggled to breathe normally. How could just the idea of him touching her drive her crazy? She busied herself with grabbing her purse and closing her locker. "Here." She held out the lock. "I can get my own."

"Keep it." He chucked some papers into his locker and pushed it shut. "It was an extra. Walk you out?"

"Sure."

Marco guided her out of the lounge. "So, where are you staying?"

"I've got a room."

He frowned. "What? A hotel?"

Alyssa waved to some of the kitchen staff, who called good night as they passed. "Van's a funny guy, don't you think?"

Marco's frown deepened. "Hmm, yeah. Funny," he said in a tone that didn't sound like he agreed at all.

A ball of sadness took root in her stomach. Why did he seem so hesitant and uncomfortable around her? She glanced up as they approached an exterior door and stopped abruptly. "Oh, wait. I parked out front. I need to cut back through the restaurant. Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"I can drive you around."

"No, that's silly."

He stared at her a long moment, like he was waging some kind of internal debate, then smiled. "Maybe, but didn't we used to say silly's good every once in a while?"

There he was, the Marco she knew. It was almost the old Marco smile that always made her protests melt away.

And now her heart was melting, too. How many times had he acted silly-telling stupid knock-knock jokes, making weird faces, pulling pranks on Brady-solely to cheer her up after one of her father's rages had sent them fleeing to his house? "Right," she said.

His voice came out gruff. "Seems like a million years ago."

Suddenly the moment felt bigger and more weighted than the simple words they'd exchanged. The urge to hug him surged through her. "Sometimes it does," she whispered. "Sometimes it seems like yesterday."

Marco looked down the hall, his eyes going distant, as if he saw something beyond the painted concrete walls surrounding them. Something about his expression and the set of his big shoulders made him look like a man carrying the weight of the world on his back. Her breath caught as an inexplicable sadness descended over her, and her body was moving without a conscious decision to do so.

She wrapped her arms around his back, buried her face against the hard muscle of his chest, and clenched her eyes shut, fighting off tears she couldn't fully explain.

His arms came around her slowly. "What's this for, Aly-girl?"

"Because I missed you." She breathed in his masculine scent, all clean soap and warm citrus. God, what would it be like to burrow under his shirt and press her cheek, her lips to his skin? Dizziness threatened at the thought.

"Me, too." He patted her on the back.

The kind of pat intended to end a hug.

Letting go of him and her fantasy of where such a hug might lead, Alyssa stepped back. She smiled and met his gaze. Which was on fire. Blazing blue set against the olive tone of his skin. She blinked, and the expression was gone.

Part of her thought she must've been dreaming, but another part said what she'd seen had been real. Shaking her head, she said, "Silly it is, then. Lead the way."

They exited to the staff parking lot, the night air still warm, and Marco pointed out the driveway that circled the building so she could park back there tomorrow. She scanned the lot, looking, looking. There!

"You still have her!" She skipped in front of him and turned, almost jogging backward. "Are you ever going to let me drive her?"

A hint of a smile on his face, he tossed his keys in the air. "You know the answer to that."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a kid anymore. I've got a perfectly clean driving record. No tickets. No accidents."

She turned and skipped up to the black '67 Mustang Marco had inherited from his grandfather. She bent over and hugged the car, her hand and cheek on the still-heated glass of the windshield. How many good times had she and Brady and Marco had in this car? "Hi, Betty," she cooed, using the pet name bestowed by his granddad. "How have you been, old girl?"

Marco gave a weird choked cough and cleared his throat.

"What?" She stepped back. "You weren't the only one I missed."

"I see that." He unlocked and opened her door. "And I approve. One of the reasons we've always been such good friends is because you get Betty."

She slipped into the seat. "How could you not get Betty?" Marco's low chuckle made it to her ears as he closed her door. Marco's grandfather had prided himself on maintaining it in pristine condition, which Marco clearly continued. And, oh, man, it smelled of rich leather just like she remembered. She loved that-how some places just had a scent, one that brought so many memories to mind.

Marco settled into the driver's seat and turned the key, bringing that lovely growling engine to life. He eased the car from the spot and crossed the lot to the driveway that ran along the side of Whiskey's.