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“So, Rocky’s Diner after I close up shop here.”
He nodded. “Rocky’s Diner. Meet you there in an hour.”
They shook hands and gave each other a bro hug. Then Mace headed out to the parking lot where his rental car waited, trying not to think about Janine … or the phone call he’d gotten from her that morning.
He failed.
GENEVA DAVIS TOOK three meat loaves out of the industrial oven, swiping the back of one of the oven mitts across her brow after placing the last on the stainless-steel counter. Two of the kitchen staff had called in sick this afternoon, leaving her and one of the other waitresses to pick up the slack at Rocky’s Diner. Monday’s Meat Loaf Mania was one of their busiest nights when all staff was present. Handling it with two people short was going to make the evening hell on earth.
Trudy Grant, the mercurial owner who was a combination of Betty White witty cuteness and Bea Arthur brashness, hung up the phone on the wall near the door. “Cindy just called in.” She shook her head. “This damn flu is going to put me out of business.”
Make that three people short.
Of course, Trudy’s proclamation was an exaggeration; something or other was going to put her out of business at least three times a day. Still, somehow she’d managed to keep the diner’s heart beating for the past twenty years when she’d bought the previous owner out.
Tiffany, the other waitress, breezed by with warm pies to stock the counter displays in the other room. “Cindy ain’t sick. Cindy has a blind date tonight.”
Geneva shared a smile with Mel, the main cook, but didn’t say anything as she slid off the mitts and gave the large pot of homemade mashed potatoes a stir. As expected, Trudy went off like a bomb, filling the kitchen with inventive curse words. Everyone moved around her, giving her the wide berth she required. They all knew the steam would dissipate and Trudy would be operating on full throttle again soon without risk of being scalded.
Geneva moved around Mel, where he tossed burgers, to turn off the alarm for the French fries. She took the basket out of the oil and hung it on the rungs above to drain.
“Oh, and Gen?” Tiffany poked her head back inside the kitchen. “Your Baby Daddy Dustin just took up residence in his usual place at the counter,”
Geneva stood perfectly still for a moment, staring unseeingly at the golden potatoes, battling back a sudden surge of nausea.
“You okay?”
She glanced at where Mel had leaned in to quietly ask the question.
“Yeah. Fine.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
She removed her hand from where it lay against her stomach, a spot she often found it resting lately, and then tipped the fries out onto two plates and salted them.
Lately, it was getting harder and harder to face Dustin. She didn’t know how to explain in a way that would register with him that just because she was pregnant, it didn’t mean they were a couple. And that she didn’t expect anything more from him but to be a good dad. But he seemed determined to make something out of nothing. And his unwanted attention was eroding what had once been a great friendship.
A friendship that had accidentally become more for five whole minutes a little over two months ago.
It wasn’t that the sex had been bad …
Okay, maybe it had been.
But that wasn’t the reason she didn’t want to be anything more than a joint parent with him. They were friends—period.
And the one-nighter had happened on the day she’d buried her mother in the ground and her sadness in a bottle of tequila.
“I remember my wife couldn’t even keep crackers down during her first try,” Mel said, putting two cheeseburgers onto buns and then handing the plates to her.
“Thankfully I haven’t been sick once.” She smiled as she dressed both burgers and then balanced all four plates on her arms. “I only feel like I’m going to be.”
All … the … time.
Trudy gathered her wits. “With my luck, your first time will be all over one of the tables. A full one.”
“Knock wood,” Geneva said, edging through the swinging doors to deliver the burgers to Table 6, passing Tiffany as she went.
“Trade you Table 7 for 3,” the too-pretty nineteen-year-old said.
That meant there was someone male and attractive at Table 7, one grouped in her regular station. She didn’t even glance that way. Instead she took in Table 3. A crowd of rowdy teenagers.
“Pass.”
“I’ll share the tip with you. Fifty-fifty.”
Geneva kept walking.
“And you can keep the other tip.”
She let her silence speak for her.
She genuinely didn’t have it in her to deal with the other table just then. Not after pulling a double shift and working all last night to get in a rush job to design a last-minute sales flyer for Johnny’s Jalopies car dealership.
She said hello to Dustin as she passed without stopping to hear what he might have to say, then waited with a smile for the couple at Table 6 to move their joined hands before placing the burgers and fries down in front of them.
“Anything else I can get you for now?” she asked.
“Ketchup,” the girl asked.
“On the table.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Are the pies fresh?”
“Always. Today there’s blueberry, apple and, of course, Trudy’s chocolate marshmallow.”
“I’ll take a piece of the blueberry,” the girl said.
“And I’ll have Trudy’s,” the guy added.
“Very good. You want them now or after you’ve finished?”
“Now.”
“After.”
“I can do both,” Geneva said.
She got the coffeepot, which unfortunately happened to be near where Dustin sat, and the blueberry pie. After delivering the pie, she moved on to Table 7, filling the two cups that had been turned up to indicate coffee would be appreciated.
“Welcome … gentlemen.”
Wow.
Okay, so she didn’t normally agree with Tiffany’s taste in men, which seemed to run from blond kids with mohawks to tattooed motorcyclists. But this time, the fickle teen was spot on.
She recognized Darius Folsom. He came in to the diner often enough and was a great guy along with a great-looking one.
But his tablemate was new.
And he was hotter than a July Colorado Springs day.
She silently cleared her throat. Not that she was interested. After all, she was an expectant mother. But she did still have a pulse.
And, apparently, a sex drive. Something she hadn’t anticipated, given her condition. Which probably explained her unusual, spellbound response.
Just looking at this guy made her think of sweaty sighs and hungry kisses.
“Hi, Geneva,” Dari said with a smile. “It’s crazy in here tonight.”
She made an effort to ignore her curiously overwhelming chemical reaction to his friend. “It always is. What can I get for you today?”
“Meat loaf, of course.”
She looked at his guest … and nearly lost her breath.
God, did eyes come any browner?
And the way he was looking at her …
“Well, if he’s game, so am I. Meat loaf.”
She smiled, probably bigger than the situation called for.
“Meat loaf it is, then. Are you sticking with the coffee? Or would you like to add something else?”
“Milk,” Dari said. “A nice, big cold glass.”
“Make that two.”
“You got it.”
She turned from the table feeling something other than nausea stir her stomach. It was a welcome change. Not overly so—while she wasn’t and had never really been involved with Dustin, she wasn’t shopping either—but nice nonetheless. It had been a long time while since she’d felt anything other than expecting.
“I hate you,” Tiffany said as they passed again.
“I love you,” she said back and then disappeared into the kitchen.
She leaned briefly against the wall inside, savoring the very female feelings while she could. She knew better than anyone that she’d soon have to nip them in the bud.
“You all right?” Mel asked after seeing her face. “You look a little flushed.”
“What? Oh, yes. I’m fine. It’s just hot in here.”
How long had it been since she’d experienced that unmistakable spark of attraction? Long enough for her to have forgotten what it felt like. Even though she knew exactly how long: since before her mother fell ill a year and a half ago.
She briefly closed her eyes, willing the sudden cold away.
How alive it made her feel, that spark of shared attraction. Hot summer sunshine seemed to course through her veins even though it was a chilly and rainy November day. And twenty pounds at least had been lifted from her feet.
“It’s not like you to waste time daydreaming,” Trudy said as she passed with a mop.
Geneva blinked.
No, it wasn’t like her.
And like that, the moment to nip the sexy sensations had arrived. Time to return to the real world where sexy strangers didn’t exist.
Damn.
2
“I KNOW YOU SAID you don’t plan to be in town long, but about that favor I wanted to ask …” Dari said.
Mace found himself following the pretty waitress with his eyes. She was all curly light brown hair, tanned skin and long legs, even in the unattractive white orthopedic shoes she wore.
He bet her thighs were toned and strong and could grip his hips like nobody’s business.
And that mouth …
“Hmm?”
He looked to find Dari grinning at him.
“Thought you weren’t interested in dating,” his friend said, indicating the waitress.
“I’m not.” He sipped his coffee, which was surprisingly good for diner fare. “I might, however, be interested in getting laid.”
Dari howled with laughter. “I stand corrected.”
“You’re sitting, but I get your point.” He put his cup down. His words were meant as a joke, but just barely. The waitress did stir something in him he hadn’t felt in a while. And while it was physical, there was more to it. There was a genuine quality to her smile, a kindness. “Are you really asking for a favor already? I’ve been in town, what?” He looked at his watch. “Five minutes?”
“I meant to ask you the first minute.”
Dari’s expression, more than his words, got Mace’s attention. It wasn’t like his friend to exaggerate. Whatever he was going to ask was important.
In his career in the military, Mace had come to understand how important it was to immediately recognize who he could count on … and, more importantly, who he couldn’t.
Going back to their teenage years, he’d always been able to depend on Dari.
