Joy struggled to keep a straight face. Giving up, she grinned and shifted her attention to the list on the table in front of her, musing that he was about to “go ape,” as Judy would have said. Apeshit was more like it. Honestly, she felt sorry for the guy. She’d hate to be stuck out here with a broken-down car. For the first time since she’d decided to take this trip, she silently thanked her dad for insisting on the 2010 Volkswagen New Beetle rather than the 1955 Plymouth Belvedere she’d been researching to purchase for her cross-country trip. But her parents bought her the convertible Bug as a college graduation gift. It was reliable and safer, her father had said, upset she’d consider driving an old car in the first place, especially after what had happened to Judy.
A twinge of guilt rode up her back like a tailgater on the highway. It always did.
Joy munched on a cold fry to rid herself of the sour taste in her mouth and returned her attention to the man outside.
Flustered, he shook his fists at the sky; then, to Joy’s amusement, he flipped off the blazing sun.
Who was he so pissed off at—God, the universe, or some other poor soul?
Joy didn’t get the chance to contemplate an answer because the man was now heading toward the diner’s entrance. The door swung open and the bell above jingled his arrival as if announcing “one tall drink of water coming right up.”
She almost snorted at her thought. She also couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She imagined her fiancé scowling across the table. Mark wouldn’t be pleased.
Licking her dry lips, her gaze glued on the stranger, she reached for her soda and brought the straw to her mouth. She sucked hard, forgetting the glass was nearly empty. A loud slurping noise startled her, and she almost dropped her glass. The rude sound drew the attention of the family in the booth next to hers. It also caught his attention. He looked at her. Cheeks burning, Joy looked down at the table, hoping he didn’t notice she’d been staring at him.
Correction: drooling over him, which was so unlike her. She hadn’t felt such an instant attraction toward anyone since, well . . . never. Her body buzzed with interest, and the energy bouncing through her left her off-kilter. A bit disconcerting compared to the steady and cozy reaction she had when Mark walked into a room.
Joy picked up her phone, pretending to read a text. She could hear the two kids in the next booth over laughing as they mimicked her, making loud slurping noises with their sodas as their parents scolded them, threatening no pool time if they didn’t knock it off at once. She could also hear the waitress ask the man, “Table or counter?”
“Do you have a phone I can use?” he asked instead.
His voice. Joy sighed. It rolled over her, worked its way inside her, and settled in her stomach. He sounded as good as he looked. She peeked at him from under her lashes.
“Sorry. Phone is for paying customers only. You don’t have a mobile?”
“Would I have asked to use your phone if I did?” He smiled casually.
“No.” The waitress giggled. She had to be forty years older than him and she giggled. Obviously, Joy wasn’t the only one affected by his good looks. This probably happened to him everywhere he went, which made her feel a tad less guilty about her own attraction. Joy would bet that he knew it, too, and worked it to his advantage.
“Are you sure I can’t pour you a cup of coffee?” the waitress offered him with a sweet smile that made Joy feel a little queasy. For real? She was old enough to be his grandmother.
The man shook his head and looked around the small diner. His gaze landed on Joy and she blinked.
“No thanks,” he told the hostess and made his way over to Joy.
Omigod. Omigod. Omigod.
Joy’s heart beat frantically. Her hands felt damp and sticky. Why was he coming over here? What did he want with her?
But it wasn’t Joy he was looking at. His gaze was pegged on the iPhone 4 Mark had gifted her when she’d graduated from UCLA two months ago. Joy tucked her phone in her lap and ducked her chin, ashamed of her reaction to this stranger with her fiancé so close to mind. She was also afraid her interest was evident on her face. A big billboard of an expression that shouted one of Judy’s favorite phrases: “Hey, handsome, you razz my berries.”
The man stopped at her table, and heart in her throat, she slowly looked up his torso to his face.
Oh. My. God.
His eyes.
They were the most gorgeous hazel she’d ever seen. Gray-green irises with a kaleidoscope of light brown and golden-yellow flecks under an awning of long, dark lashes.
He’s so dreamy, Judy would have said, nudging her.
The thought Judy would be reacting the same way toward him almost made her sigh with relief. Steady boyfriend or not, Judy would have been swooning just like her.
He smiled. “Hi.”
Joy blinked, mute.
His smile widened, the left corner of his mouth pulling up higher. He knew exactly the effect he had on her.
“May I borrow your phone? I’m not going to run off with it,” he added when Joy remained speechless. He nodded at the window. “You probably noticed my car’s dead.”
She felt a blush creep up her neck. He knew she’d been watching him. Could she sink under the table and die?
“One call.” He raised a finger. “Promise.”
“Sure,” she said in a voice rendered meek from embarrassment. She set the phone at the end of the table.
“Thanks.” He slid into the booth and a light gasp escaped her lungs. He slung her a grateful grin and keyed in a phone number. “Rick, it’s Dylan . . . Some gal let me borrow hers.” He glanced at Joy. “Look, Jack’s car died . . . I told you it would . . . No idea. Spark plugs? It’s not the battery . . . The car’s a piece of crap. It won’t make it cross-country . . . You deal with it. I don’t have time to pick my nose and wait around. I’m gigging in Flagstaff tonight and need to be in New York in nine days . . . I’ll rent a car . . . I don’t give a shit. Jack’s car kicking the bucket doesn’t fall within the guidelines either. You figure it out, you’re the attorney. I’ll call you when I get to Flagstaff.”
Dylan ended the call, wiped the phone clean of car grease with a paper napkin, then slid the device across the table with a muttered thanks. Looking out the window, he pushed out a long stream of air and shoveled a handful of hair off his forehead. Joy noticed the dark hair that dusted his forearms. Thirteen leather bands circled his left wrist. He swung his head back around and fixed his gaze on her. He smiled and snagged a cold fry from her plate.
“Do you mind?” She pulled the plate to her side of the table, repulsed yet impressed at his boldness. She’d once been bold. She used to not give a squat what others thought.
“I’m starving.” He flagged down the waitress and pointed at Joy’s plate. “What did you have?” he asked Joy.
“Cheeseburger and fries.”
“I’ll have that,” Dylan said to the waitress.
“And to drink?”
“Water’s fine. I’m dying of thirst.” He blotted his forehead and neck with a paper napkin.
“Can I get you a refill?” she asked Joy.
“Yes. Cherry Coke, please.”
The waitress took her empty glass and Dylan smirked.