“Did I ask you?” Roxie pops her gum, then turns to me. “I get off at ten.”
“I couldn’t care less.” I’m not known for sugarcoating anything.
I hear Dixie snort a laugh from farther down the counter, and Orchid covers her mouth with her order pad to hide her smile.
“Still playing hard to get?” Roxie gives me a sharp look. “Don’t worry. I can be patient, big guy.”
“Like I said, I couldn’t care less. Now run along so Orchid and I can finish our conversation.”
Roxie gives me a fake pout, then turns and stalks off.
“Oh my God. Thank you.” Orchid lowers her note pad, though she’s still trying to school her features and subdue her smile.
“For what?”
“For that. I mean, I don’t think Roxie is a bad person or anything, but she can be sort of …”
“Cruel? Pushy? A dick?” I offer.
She laughs, the sound just as beautiful as her. “No. I was going to say ‘bold.’”
“If you say so.” I sip my coffee. Black and bitter, just the way I like it. It’s not quite the same as what I make up at my lodge, but it’s close enough. More than that, sitting here and drinking coffee gets me more time with Orchid. I’d happily drink battery acid if it meant I got to be near her.
“I’ll get this in. Be back in a bit to top you up.” She turns, her dress riding higher on her thighs.
There goes my cock again, acting up and demanding I do something about how badly I want Orchid. But I won’t. I’m no good for her. Hell, I barely have enough social skills to make it through my days of just going to the hardware and fucking around at my house. Orchid is a friend to everyone she meets, a beacon of warmth–no wonder I’m drawn to her. She’s everything I’m not, and I’ve worshiped her from day one.
Paulo walks in, his head on a swivel. Roxie strides up to him, her hips swaying. “Hey, handsome, come on and have a seat.” She leads him–pretty much by the dick–over to her section. Good. I would’ve had to boot him out of Orchid’s section if he’d tried it, and I’d do it a hell of a lot more forcefully.
“Hey, Paulo,” Orchid calls from behind the counter. Then she speaks to Dixie through the kitchen window and turns back around. But she looks at me. She always does. She sneaks glances at me the whole time I’m here, and also when we’re at home. If I’m in the yard, she tends to find a reason to go outside, which then starts the domino effect of that dumbass Paulo coming out, too.
But maybe I’m reading too much into things. Probably am. After all, I’m a bear compared to her. She’s a little Goldilocks with no idea about all the filthy things I’d love to do to her.
After a while, she brings my plate–chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and greens. “Let me get you more coffee. I’ll be right back.”
“No rush, Orchid. Take your time.” I hate when she feels like she has to hurry from table to table, especially when it’s my table. She doesn’t. I’d be here even if Dixie was serving up unsalted grits with a side of tripe. It’s Orchid that makes the diner enjoyable, nothing else.
“I’m trying to be a good waitress.” She gives me a cute smile. “So I can get good tips.”
“Have I not been tipping you well enough?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “Of course you have! You’re always so generous. Even that first night when I spilled your food all over you–”
“You did? I don’t remember that at all.”
“You don’t remember–Oh.” She laughs. “You’re messing with me.”
“The only thing I remember from you is wonderful service every time I set foot in here. That’s all.”
Her cheeks turn that light pink again. “Thanks, Sully. You’re so sweet to me.” She turns and fetches the coffee carafe.
As she’s walking back to me, the diner door opens, and two men walk in.
I feel the shift as soon as the door closes behind them.
Orchid stops, her skin going pale.
I toss down my silverware and rise to go to her.
Before I get there, she gasps, then drops the carafe, the glass shattering at her feet as the men walk toward her.
4
ORCHID
I suppose a girl can only run for so long before her past catches up to her. That is the only thing I can think as I stare into Jeremiah’s bright blue eyes. The ones that all the girls back at the land always fell all over themselves about. They are beautiful. Striking, really. But I know what lies behind them.
They’ve always reminded me of hard ice and unforgiving cold that goes bone deep. Even now, a chill races right through my entire body. The heat of the coffee pot that’s shattered at my feet, some of the hot fluid splattered across my legs, is welcome. Anything to stop the coldness that keeps spreading through me. But I don’t think the devil himself could cut that cold blizzard I feel whenever I stare into Jeremiah’s eyes.