He glances over at me and tips his head up to acknowledge me. “I’ll be right there.”
I repeat the gesture. “You’re fine.”
The door to the kitchen swings open and Luciano appears. His eyes widen when he sees me.
What the hell has gotten into him?
Luciano grabs a cup and a pot of coffee and comes over. He pours it without saying anything, his hand almost shaking a little.
“Thanks.” The word sort of comes out of my mouth like a question.
“Mmhm,” he mumbles. “Can I get you anything else?”
The beanie kid comes over. “I can take over from here, boss.”
Luciano shoos him away. “I’ve got it, Miller.”
Miller side-eyes him but shrugs and walks away, probably grateful for the reprieve from working. For such a young fellow, he sure does seem worn out. The bags under his eyes are dark and heavy.
“No, I’m fine,” I answer Luciano’s question. “I’m just waiting for someone.”
Luciano bobs his head up and down. “I see. Claire joining you?”
At just the sound of her name leaving his lips, a fire ignites within me, the possessiveness of keeping her safe overpowering the very normalness of the inquiry.
I relax my clenched jaw. “No. A friend.”
Luciano’s eyes dart to the seat across from me and then back to me, like he’s nervous about something. This is not how he acted the night I met him with Claire. Then, he seemed confident and cocky, arrogant even. Now he’s being…weird.
“Are you all right?” I’m not really sure why I ask this.
“Yes. I—um.”
The bell dings, alerting us to another patron in the diner.
Josey strolls over, slapping Luciano on the back like they’re longtime pals. “Lucy.” He slides into the unoccupied seat and points to the pot still in Luciano’s hand. “I’ll have a cup.”
Luciano blinks at him, then at me, then at him again. “You two know each other?”
“Ah, yeah, we go way back.” Josey points his big-ass arm at me.
I watch as the wrong name forms on his lips, but he immediately catches it.
“Theo just moved to town. I was going to show him around.”
Luciano meets my gaze again. “Is that right?”
I nod. “Yep.”
Why does he act like he’s doubting what we’re saying? Who does this guy think he is? And why does it matter either way? Who is he to Josey?
Luciano lets it go, focusing on Josey. “I’ll get you a mug.” He turns toward Miller. “Another coffee over here.”
“Yes, sir,” Miller replies obediently, going straight over and fetching a cup.
I stare at Josey. “What was that all about?”
“What?” He stirs some sugar into his java, completely oblivious. Finally, he meets my gaze. “Lucy? That was nothing. He’s just nosy. Don’t worry about him.”