One
Caroline
Thebreakfastcrowdhastapered off so I slide into the empty side of the booth across from my old friend, Mammoth. My feet welcome the break. “I clock out in ten minutes. Thanks for hanging out.”
I hate begging rides off of friends, but that’s my life since my car is totaled.
“Keep the pancakes coming until then, and I’ll give you a ride any time, sugar.” The mountain of a biker, winks and shoves another giant forkful into his mouth. We go way back, far enough that we’re solidly friends who can have fun with jokes like that.
“A fourth serving? Not judging…” I plant my hands on the table and start to rise but he waves me off.
“You’re right. Three’s a good round number.” He pats his belly. “Don’t want to lose my figure.”
I survey my tables, and one of the customers motions for a check. Downtime is scarce at the diner but I’m eager to get back to this table of hot-as-sin doctors. One of them happens to be Roarke Shepherd, the star of my fantasies. And also, the father of my best friend, Madison—through high school anyway. Madi and I had a big fight our senior year and haven’t talked in the four years since.
“Back to work.” I scoot off the bench to go tally their check.
The intriguing thing is that Roarke doesn’t seem to realize who I am. Not a complete surprise since he was always at the hospital. But him not recognizing me drives home just how disconnected he was from his daughter’s life.
Heading to their table, I smile at the doctor I don’t know. Where Roarke is confident and distinguished, the other man is a few years younger and has a hot nerd vibe. Both of them make my heart race. If either of them was my doctor, he’d never get a clean reading of my vitals.
Perhaps it’s good Roarke was never home when I hung out with Madison, I would have just stared and drooled, and she would have hated me as much as she hated all the other girls who talked about how hot her dad was.
I extend my hand, presenting the paper ticket to the men, and the nerdy one reaches for it. There’s no fighting over the check. No miscue over who I was handing it to, so why do his fingers brush mine? My pulse quickens as I give in to a wistful fantasy that he intended to touch me.
“Sugar, huh?” Hot Nerd Doc studies me, and while I’m trying to sort out what he’s asking, I’m also hopelessly lost in the way he says it. Low, almost seductive.
He cocks his head and looks past me. Is he looking at Mammoth?
“He called you sugar, is he your boyfriend?” There’s something beyond simple curiosity in his question.
Roarke shakes his head and mutters, “I didn’t think you were really going to ask.”
Why does he care who my boyfriend is? My wistful fantasy takes notice that not only did he ask, but it was discussed. Normally, I discreetly deflect customers who want to get personal, but it’s time for some fun.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. Want me to put in a good word for you?” I add a wink. I might as well wear a shirt that says,Will flirt for tips,because it’s the only way I’ll ever scrounge up enough money to get a new car, or the computer I’ve been saving for. But flirting with these guys feels different.
Roarke busts out laughing. “Yeah Bennett, you want him to call yousugar?I bet he would if you let him be the big spoon.”
Bennett, who I now have a name for, gets over his surprise at my comment as he laughs and winks. “I don’t plan on being anything with him. But he has it all wrong, you’re not thesugartype, are you?”
My turn to laugh…nervously. The seduction in his voice wakes my girl bits up. I cross my arms since my nipples beaded. I’m not normally the type to be easily embarrassed.
“I’m more of a salty girl.”
He huffs. The glint in his eye registers something other than what I meant.
Shit. He took that wrong. But if he asked…I’d be game.
“Was your mind in the gutter, Bennett?” I make sure to soften my voice to say his name.
The air sizzles between us. He leans a little closer, intensifying our connection, and extends his credit card with the bill. “Moving kind of fast, aren’t you? Getting us to a first name basis when we haven’t even kissed, Caroline.”
I take his card, which will provide a last name. I’m impressed that he doesn’t have to look at my nametag. Of course, I’ve been wearing it the whole time I’ve served them, and I introduced myself, but most people can’t regurgitate my name two seconds after I tell them.
I glance at Roarke who’s leaned back and is enjoying whatever this is. Is Bennett always like this? I swallow a tinge of guilt that I’m going to flirt with my former best friend’s dad’s friend.
And I really could use a big tip. Friends will only be cool with giving me rides for so long. I can hold my own. Any chance this is more than a game of flirt with the waitress? It’s amazing what stupid shit guys will challenge each other to.