“What can I say, Gladys. I dream about your apple pie.” His voice was warm and deep, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
“Water with lemon?” she asked, already filling his glass.
“Yes, ma’am. And I’ll have my usual.”
“You got it,” she replied. She jotted a few words on a ticket, tore it off her pad, and hung it in the window. “Order up, Earl,” she called into the kitchen. She turned back to my new dinner companion with an almost star-struck grin.
I don’t blame you, Gladys. This guy looks like a statue of a Greek god brought to life.
“So how was practice?” she asked. “Think you’ll be ready next month?”
“I think so,” he told her. Before he could say more, the bell chimed again and a group of a dozen teenagers filled the diner. They spread out in four of the six booths and a few clustered around the jukebox. My meal appeared in the window and Gladys delivered it before setting off to greet her new customers. I stared down at my giant, gravy soaked plate and felt myself blush again.
Fantastic. I’m sitting three feet away from Adonis, about to pig out in four-year-old sweatpants. I’ll eat fast and get out of here before I have to make eye contact with him.
“That’s quite a steak you’ve got there,” he commented, shattering my hope to get through my meal unnoticed.
“I’m hungry,” I explained awkwardly.
Hungry and lame.
“It’s nice to see a woman with an appetite,” he replied, but I couldn’t tell if he was teasing, serious, or simply grossed out.
I finally looked up at him and my heart instantly raced.
Like me, Ethan was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He had dark hair, hypnotic hazel eyes, and I could tell by the fit of his shirt that his body was as chiseled as his chin and cheekbones.
“I’m Ethan McAlister,” he said with a cocky, expectant grin.
Well, isn’t he impressed by himself? Though I guess I’d be a little cocky too, if I looked like that.
“Nice to meet you, Ethan. I’m Emily Kinkaid.”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” The expectation on his face turned to amusement and he spun on his stool to face me. “So tell me, Emily Kinkaid, how is it that a beautiful woman such as yourself is dining alone tonight?” His voice dripped with charm.
“My boyfriend coaches a pee-wee football team at the Boys Club, and they have practice tonight.”
“And you didn’t tag along? Not a sports fan, I take it?”
“I’m a huge sports fan. I just don’t like football.”
He gave me an understanding nod and took a long drink of his water. “Let me guess, you think it’s too violent.”
I swallowed a bite of my potatoes and chased it with a sip of my soda.
“I think it’s too dangerous,” I corrected him. “For kids, at least. I don’t mind watching it on television, but when it’s one of your children on the field, it’s a completely different story.”
His eyes widened with surprise. “You have kids?”
“No,” I replied with a laugh. “I’m sorry. I teach kindergarten. I have a bad habit of referring to every kid in the school as mine.”
The shock changed to relief and Gladys reappeared behind the counter. A platter of pancakes, sausage, and eggs appeared in the order window and she set it in front of Ethan before returning to the booths with a pot of coffee.
“Kindergarten, huh? You must have a lot of energy,” he commented, covering his pancakes with syrup.
“It ran out long before the final bell today, which is why I look like I’ve been hit by a truck,” I explained with a light-hearted laugh.
“If you’re this beautiful when you’re exhausted, I’d love to see you on a good day,” he countered. I still couldn’t tell if he was teasing or being serious, but I was surprised by how at ease I felt around the handsome, charming stranger.
He’s like Linda. I bet he’s never met a stranger. And I’m sure he flirts like this with every woman he comes across. But what the hell? It’s harmless. I may as well enjoy it.
“I’m serious,” he continued. “I’m new to the area. I’d be incredibly grateful if you’d show me around sometime.”
I shifted on my stool, suddenly nervous. “I have a boyfriend,” I told him again.
“Which is why I’m asking for a tour, not a date,” he replied, completely undeterred. “Come on, you’d be doing me a huge favor.” He gave me the most adorable, pitiful puppy dog eyes and I had to turn away. I knew if I stared at him much longer, I’d agree to anything he wanted.
“I really can’t,” I insisted. “Even if it’s innocent, it’s a line I’m not willing to cross.”
“So you’re beautiful and loyal. Your boyfriend is a lucky man.”
“Thanks.”
I stared down at my half eaten meal and knew I couldn’t take another bite. I leaned over the counter and fetched my own to-go box.
“In a hurry?” he asked.
I lifted a shoulder. “Sort of.” I filled the box and pulled a twenty from my wallet.
“Gladys looks like she’s going to have her hands full for a while. Will you make sure she gets this?” I asked, setting the bill on the counter.
“Sure,” he agreed. “If you’ll give me your phone number.”
I blushed and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“I understand. But I can’t stand the thought that I may never see you again.”
I knew he was just flirting, but my pulse quickened and my heart felt like it might explode from my chest with excitement. I slung my purse over my shoulder and met his eyes with a smile.
“I guess if we’re supposed to meet again, we will,” I teased.
His eyes smoldered and he dropped his voice an octave. “I eat dinner here every Wednesday around this time. If you decide we’re meant to run into each other again, you know where to find me.”
He’s serious. He’s actually interested in me.
My smile softened and I dropped my tone to match the seriousness of his. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I promised.
“Till next time, then,” he offered with a grin.
“Till next time.”
I walked out of the diner, filled with emotions I didn’t understand. I loved Ben, and I wanted to build a life with him. But when Ethan asked for my number, I regretted not being able to give it to him. I took the long way home, trying to sort out my feelings.
I’m exhausted and my head isn’t on straight. Ben and I haven’t had much time together since school started. That’s why I got so caught up in Ethan’s flirting. I didn’t cross any lines. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, I don’t need to see Ethan McAlister ever again.
***
On the second Friday of the school year, I reached a milestone in my class. Not one single child cried about missing their parents. I rewarded myself with a hot bath, followed by a night in bed with a bottle of wine and a week’s worth of television. I turned my alarm off before I drifted off, determined to sleep in Saturday morning. My friend Melissa had other ideas. She called bright and early at seven a.m.