5
Eric
Because I guess I like to play with fire, or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in my lungs, I head back to Franky’s diner the next day after spending hours in the emergency department having my shoulder checked and wrapped. I woke this morning with a shoulder so stiff, I almost wept, but I have work to do, paperwork to file, and clients to help. So I took my ass to work, but the second I walked into the Checkmate office and found out Spencer is a snitch bitch, I was forced back out again with orders to see a doctor and not to come back until I had a note saying I could.
So I went to the ER and asked for Kari Macchio, since she’s a friend of a friend, and when she had a spare moment, my shoulder was seen to by a girl with a cute smile while her EMT boyfriend watched on and made stupid jokes. If I’m going to be forced to see a doctor, I may as well make it a cute nurse I can gossip about my coworkers with while Luc Lenaghan watches on, eating his tuna on rye in the only spare twenty minutes he’d have all day.
I did as I was told, had my scans, found out my collarbone isn’t busted, just sore, and had my arm wrapped. Now, nineteen hours after leaving the diner, I park my ass back down in my booth and smile at the beautiful succubus as she walks her domain and takes care of everyone who comes here for a meal.
I have to work out more than ever before because I eat burgers six days a week and pie at least half of that. But every extra set I do is worth it when Katrina walks my way with fire in her eyes and a tight control on her anger.
Mac didn’t seem all that worried about her rage last night, so I’m taking it as a sign that maybe she’s an explosive psycho, the kind where it’s gone as fast as it comes and extinguishes itself after the initial flash. Seeing as today is a new day, I’m in the clear to keep clogging my arteries.
Hopefully.
In tight black jeans that do wild things to my imagination, and a tight shirt with Franky’s name emblazoned over her chest, Katrina approaches me with firm lips, fiery eyes, and flaring nostrils as she stops by my table and wields her pen like a knife.
So maybe she’s not a flash in the night, but a sun, a fiery inferno that’ll burn me up if I stare too long.
I know she doesn’twantto serve me, and if I’m being totally honest with myself, she’s been kinda reluctant since that first day, but I’m still here and willing to take the heat, because seeing her angry is better than not seeing her at all.
“Hello. My name is Katrina,” she grits out. “I’ll be your server today. Burger and fries?”
“Hi, Katrina.” She smells good. Like roses and sex. Folding my arms over my chest and looking up – and I definitely don’t linger on Franky’s name – I stare into green eyes and flash a grin that always aims forpanty-melting, but usually ends up in the region ofconstipated and desperate. “My name is Eric, and I’ll be your customer today. Can you tell me your specials, please?”
Okay. So I’m clean out of mystery and intrigue, and will mostly aim for obnoxious and cute. We’ll see where that gets me.
With a sigh that she locks up when I lift a brow, she straightens her spine with resolve and nods. “Sure. The meatloaf is still good. And we have a nice potato and leek soup that comes with homemade bread with rosemary and butter.”
“That sounds yummy. Did you make the soup?”
“No.”
Biting my lips together before I cop some of what she was dishing out so freely last night, I clear my throat and try again. “What did you make? The coleslaw for the chicken burgers?”
“No. I already answered that question yesterday.” She lets out a deep breath when she realizes she’s getting snappy with a customer. Just like Mac, I see her buttons, and I push the ones I can without risking my life. “I made the relish for the beef burgers.”
I flash a wide smile and linger on her tits for just a second.
“So, a burger?” she prods. “It’s not as refreshing as a chicken burger and coleslaw, seeing as it’s a little warm out, but a beef burger will fill your belly, so…”
I glance out the window and lift my shoulders to shrug, only to drop them again when I remember Aaron-Fucking-Scanlen and his baseball bat.Go beg the pretty girl to kiss your boo-boos better.“You think it’s warm?” I meet her eyes and smile through the pain throbbing in my shoulder. “It’s not so bad. It’s not nearly as bad as it was in August.”
“That’s probably because it’s not August anymore.” Her tight voice says she has control of this conversation, but her eyes scream about being a dumbass andjust order already, ya creep!
I’m not trying to be a creep, but I’m kinda addicted to looking at her. And well, shit, I could be addicted to cocaine. But I’m not, so how about we stop judging my vices? “It’s October already. You ready for Halloween? Do you get dressed up?”
“Absolutely not. So, burger?”
“Can you tell me what’s in the soup, please? I’m kinda digging something new and yummy, but I’m just not sure.”
Her knuckles turn white as she crushes her pen between her fingers. The tips of her pert ears turn red, and her nostrils flare, because she wants to get the hell away from the dude who has questionable fashion sense and seemingly too much time on his hands.
I get it: a bored man is trouble. He’s either unemployed, or he’s plotting to cause mayhem. I’m neither unemployed, nor a trouble maker, but seeing as she refuses to sit down and play nice, she couldn’t possibly know that.
“You want to know what’s in the potato and leek soup?” When I only nod, I swear to God, she growls. “Well, Mr. DeWhit, it has potatoes and leeks.”
“That sure sounds good, huh?”