Not ideal, but good enough. I just need something different to get this man out of my head.
The lights of the gas station and diner are a beacon in the dark. It looks a little like a horror film, and there are only a couple of cars and no trucks. Probably just the overnight employees. I can’t imagine too many people come into a twenty-four-hour diner that’s in the middle of nowhere at two a.m. But I’ll be that person. Just…I don’t know…eat a piece of pie and go home.
There’s a waitress standing behind the counter when I walk in, and her eyebrows rise into her hairline when she sees me. Clearly I was right, she’s not used to seeing people here. There’s only one other patron, a man that’s leaning over the counter half asleep.
But the place is warm, cozy, and homier than I imagined that it would be. The waitress comes over. “Don’t get many people out here this late. You want something?”
“You have pie?” I ask.
“Sure do.”
“I’ll take a piece of cherry, please.” I resist the urge to ask for coffee. I’m still hoping to get some sleep tonight, and coffee isn’t going to help that situation.
Setting my notebook on the table, I open it and stare at the blank page. Just like I’ve been doing for days whether it’s been this notebook or the computer screen of my laptop. I thought that I had so many ideas, but when I go to write them down, my brain empties and that idea well is drier than this Texas desert.
And predictably, my mind turns to Harlan. And I’m tired of fighting it. So I let myself think about him. About how impossibly attractive I find him and the fantasies that I’ve had. About how I’ve watched him work and talked with him and discovered his intelligence and capability. And about his care of me when he knew I was afraid, though he could have mocked me and there was nothing that I would have been able to do about it.
That first meeting, I was determined to hate him. That turned around pretty quickly, even though I still found him frustrating as hell. What would it have been like if that meeting had gone differently? Gone the way I had always imagined meeting someone like Harlan would go?
And just like that the words begin to flow for the first time in days. The waitress sets down my pie—cherry—and I consume it while I write. It’s just a scene and the beginning of an idea, but it feels good to have the words flowing. A budding romance with a sweeter beginning than Harlan and I had.
If there was a ‘Harlan and I.’
The pie is actually amazing, and I know that I’ll be coming back here for more in the daytime. Harlan has to try this. Hell, I’m going to bring him back a piece for tomorrow. I flag down the waitress and ask her for another piece to go, and keep writing while she brings me the box and the check.
It’s amazing how much clearer I feel after writing. My thoughts about Harlan are definitely not settled, but I know that when I get back to the ranch I’ll be able to sleep. That’s something, at least.
I head out to my car feeling lighter and more at peace than I have since I arrived. Though I hope I won’t have to venture out in the middle of the night again to achieve this feeling.
“What were you writing in there?”
The voice that comes out of nowhere is raspy and dry, and I jump, turning to face the man who was sitting at the counter earlier. I was so engrossed in my writing that I hadn’t paid him much attention or seen him leave. He didn’t seem totally present, but there was a gleam in his eye that sent a chill down my spine.
“Nothing,” I say, continuing my walk toward my car.
I can feel him following, a dark presence at my back, and as I walk faster, he walks faster too.
Before I get to the car, I turn to face him. I don’t want him to be able to force me into the car and drive away. “Please leave me alone.”
He sneers. “I’m just trying to have a conversation. Loosen up. You never answered my question.”
“I don’t know you, and I don’t want to talk to you.”
Faster than I can react, he’s in my face, gripping my chin. Everything I’m holding goes flying, as I shove at him, but he’s impossibly strong for someone so thin and wiry. “Listen bitch, if I want to talk to you, I’m going to talk to you. And you’ll do more than that.” He’s moving to pull me away from my car. No. This can’t happen. No.