“So, how about it?”
I nearly wince, conflict brewing inside of me as I remember the promise I made to myself when I dared to move this close to a military base.
It’s just coffee. But why torture myself when I know it can’t go anywhere?
And if he looks half as sexy drinking coffee as he does eating pie, I’dwantit to go somewhere.
“I’m flattered.Really,” I tack on, since he’s honestly way out of my league. “But I don’t date military guys. It’s just that—” I begin, feeling the need to explain why, when he cuts me off.
“That’s okay. I don’t date women who make pie.”
At first, I think he’s joking. But there’s this harshness in his tone and a hint of annoyance in his eyes that doesn’t mesh with a joke.
“I wasn’t talking about a date anyway,” he quickly follows-up. “I’m just new in town and was hoping to pick your brain a bit.”
“Pick my brain?” My tiny ego, already fragile, just shrunk to the size of an underdeveloped pea.
“Yeah. I’m trying to find a cheap room to rent for the summer, and you work in the kind of place where local people talk about stuff. So I thought maybe you’ve heard something and…” His voice trails as he finishes with a shrug.
I’m mortified.
Of coursehe wasn’t after a date with me.
Hot Rangers don’t date the girl next door who serves up pie at the local diner. They date bikini-clad college girls who are still knee-deep in that stage of life where they can spend their days tanning on the beach.
Lord knows after Memorial Day weekend, they’ll be a dime a dozen around here all summer. So why would he waste time with the boring thirty-something in a diner?
Son of a…
I feel like an idiot. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the diner is quiet enough that I’m pretty sure half the people in here heard.
“Oh, well, I don’t know anyone renting a room.” Bristling, I force the words out, trying very hard to sound like I don’t care.Iturnedhimdown first, after all—proving that there is a special god who watches over dateless women. “But there’s a B&B just one block away.”
“Yeah, that’s where I’m staying now. But I was hoping to find a room where I could stash an air mattress to sleep on and some other stuff. I’m getting sick of hauling all my gear every weekend back and forth.”
“Your gear?”
“Yeah. Surfboard, paddleboard, bike. Loading and unloading it got old quick, and I’ve only done it a couple weekends so far.” He takes another bite of his pie and looks way too sexy doing it, before adding, “And then there’s the traffic on the weekends.”
“Maybe check on Craig’s List?” I suggest half-heartedly.
“Yeah, I did. Found nothing. Well, except for some guy who tried to sell me a time-share and another one who wanted me to pay him in bitcoin.” He takes his last bite of pie. “Gotta pen?”
“Huh?”
“Do you have a pen?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I hand him one from behind the counter.
He jots down a number. “If you hear of anything, here’s my number. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know. I’d just be there on the weekends and don’t need much. Could be easy money for someone.”
Still looking annoyed—and I have no idea whyhe’dbe annoyed sinceI’mthe one wearing egg on my face—he hands me his number.
For the record, he’s the hottest guy who’s ever handed me his number.
And all he wants from me is information. Information and pie.
Figures.
“Sure,” I say, taking it and tamping down the irritation of rejection because I had zero intention of dating this guy anyway.
But I was certainly enjoying the idea that I had the option.