“You’re late,” Danielle, the owner, scowls unnecessarily from behind the register.
“I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I know it won’t.” Danielle lets out a sigh. “I’m not mad. Worried. You’re always ten minutes early for every shift. I worry about my girls. Your mom okay?”
My shoulders sag and I unconsciously let out a sigh. “She fell out of bed this morning and woke up more disoriented than usual.”
“Gia, you ever think of putting your mom in a long-term care facility? Jo says you don’t ever stop working. Putting in ten hour shifts here, on your feet all day, then going home to care for your mother isn’t a life for a smart twenty-six-year-old like yourself.”
“Your sister puts in just as many hours looking out for my mother as I do working here.” The bell chimes above the door indicating a customer has come in.
“True, but Jo is sixty-five and has a husband to go home to. She gets bored while he’s at work all day. Tending to your mother gives her something to do. She loves you both.”
“And we love her. And you.” I reach under the counter and pick up an apron, tying it around my waist. “Now stop distracting me or my boss is going to give me another talking to.”
I pick up the pot of coffee and make my way to the table at the far end of the diner where a lone man sits. I inspect the tables on my way, making sure napkins, salt, and pepper are stocked. When I reach his table, I look up and give him my usual welcoming smile.
If I had still been walking, I would have stumbled over my feet, and I’m not a clumsy person. The man sitting before me is beautiful. His jet-black hair is cropped short on the sides and just long enough on top to style into that cool movie-star suave look.
A five o’clock shadow covers a chiseled jaw, and his lips are set firm and severe. I can’t tell if he’s sad, bored, hungry, or indifferent to being here. His face masks any emotion.
His shoulders are wide and strong, and I love how they look under his simple white T-shirt. There’s something about a man in jeans and a simple T-shirt that just gets me drooling. Simple, down to earth guys are my favorite. Well, if I had a favorite.
I’ve been the look-don’t-touch kind of girl for longer than I care to think about. Danielle was right. I’m too young to be living life this way, but if I want to keep the demons from my past at bay, I have to keep my life on the simple and quiet side.
He’s just another pretty boy from San Diego. When I was in Tennessee, the country boys were cute and charming, making it harder to keep them at arm’s length, but I did. Most of the men in southern California are too into their looks, and way too focused on their plant-based diet and all natural products to give a plain girl who serves food at a diner a second glance. Not that I have any problems with their ultra-trendy dietary habits.
Hell, if I had enough money, I’d be eating natural, whole foods every meal instead of the cheap fast food and greasy diner food Mama and I have been living off for the past eight years.
The gorgeous man in front of me hasn’t spoken, and I realize it’s my job to initiate the conversation.
“Morning. Can I start you off with a cup of coffee?”
He nods to his empty cup, and I turn it over, filling it to the brim. No smile, no thank you, no indication that he has a personality. Welcome to the land of vanity.
“Do you need more time with the menu?” I eye the plastic menu that still stands between the napkin holder and bottle of ketchup.
“No.”
I set the pot of coffee on the table and take out the notepad I keep tucked in the front pocket of my apron. My pen hovers over the paper, waiting for him to continue. I glance up at him and cock my head to the side, encouraging him to order.
The man doesn’t flinch. Not a wrinkle can be seen on his forehead or around his eyes. At least not past where his sunglasses hide his eyes. Figures. All the good-looking men are either married, gay, or assholes. This guy definitely holds rank in the latter category.
He doesn’t shift and warning prickles work their way up my spine. He’s too cool. Too calm. Too much like...
I back away as I struggle to calm my breathing. I take four more steps backward, and when my thighs bump against a table, I spin on my heels and rush back to the kitchen.
“Gia, you okay? You’re as white as a sheet and covered in sweat.” Danielle lifts the back of her hand to my forehead.
“I’m okay. A little woozy.”
“Don’t tell me you skipped breakfast again.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “Franky, make a breakfast sandwich for Gia. Heavy on the spinach.”
“I’m okay, Danielle.”
“Bullshit. You sit down while I tend to the customers. You’ll do us no good passing out while delivering food.”
I take the seat she forces me into and peek through the kitchen window. Three more tables have filled with customers. I’d been so caught up in the presence of the mystery man, then overcome with fear, I hadn’t even noticed the ringing of the bell or the additional people in the diner.