“Want some buttered toast as well? We got the best in town,” she said.
“Sure. I’ll take some.”
“You look like you could use all the nourishment you can get,” she said as her eyes fell to my arms.
She slid herself from the booth and put in my order. And it came back at almost lightning speed. She set it in front of me and passed me a fork, then slid back into the booth and started jabbering away at me. I wasn’t interested in the girl who dumped me back in high school. Especially one that hadn’t aged gracefully at all. She probably still smoked like she did back then. I knew her kind. The kind that regretted what she’d given up. And I had no doubt in my mind that it had to do with my success once I got the hell out of this place as a teenager.
“That’s a tough break with the NFL,” Cecily said. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Can’t take any head or neck shots, but otherwise I’m fine,” I said.
“Well that’s good. So what has your attention nowadays?”
“Just some things here and there,” I said.
I stabbed at my food and drank my coffee while she continued to pull my life out from between my lips.
Scanning the restaurant as her voice fell into the background like a drone of white noise that was used to lull an infant to sleep, I couldn’t eat my food fast enough. Shoving down my food, I just wanted to get out of there. But the second the kitchen doors slammed open, I caught sight of that dark head of red hair again.
“Cecily?”
“Yeah, um what’s up, Grayson?” she asked.
“Does Michelle work here?” I asked.
My eyes followed her as she sat four plates of food down at a table.
Her silence caught my attention and I whipped my gaze back over to her. The frown on her face was evident, but I didn’t give a shit. It hadn’t occurred to me the other night to ask where Michelle actually worked, and the fact that I’d stumbled across her on accident twice in the span of two days was more than a simple coincidence.
“She does,” Cecily said flatly. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. I wanted to apologize for what happened between us back in—”
“Forget it,” I said. “It’s in the past. Hold on.”
I watched Michelle buzzing around the room, filling coffee cups with that beautiful smile on her face. I pulled out my wallet and slid a fifty dollar bill from it, then placed it on the table and got up.
“Grayson? Where are you going?” Cecily asked. “Aren’t you going to finish your food?”
“Keep the change,” I said, mindlessly.
Then I walked away from my half-eaten food to approach Michelle. The woman my life wouldn’t stop putting in my path.
Chapter 8
Michelle
As I wiped down the counter and cashed out a few customers, I drew in a deep breath. I was exhausted. I’d spent half the night regaling Cecily on what had happened at the bar, then spent the other half of the night tossing and turning with Gray on my mind. My body had been soaring with sexual longing. Every time I closed my eyes I saw his throbbing muscles and the way the humidity forced his shirt to cling to the divots of his strength. I woke up that Saturday morning missing the way Gray made me feel. I rolled off Cecily’s couch and remembered how wonderful it felt to wake up next to him. To feel him bring me close to his naked body instead of me rolling off a damn couch and onto a disgusting floor that never got vacuumed.
Running into him last night had thrown me for a loop.
But little did I know my life was about to take another turn.
“Good morning, Michelle.”
My eyes whipped up from the bar I was cleaning as my eyes found his.
There he was, smiling at me again in that way he had about him. The way he knew made my insides hum and melt for him. He slid his legs along the swiveling bar stool and propped his forearms up to the bar as I stood there, studying his face and looking into his deep ocean eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.