“Figure I’ve earned it.”
“You’ve earned all of it.” He scowls. “You should be taking it all.”
“And get herself into even more trouble? No way.” Franks shakes her head. “You play it safe.”
I swallow and bob my head. “I reckon in about two or three years, I’ll have enough.”
“Two or three?” Franks forgets about picking up her menu and gives me a shocked look that makes her nose scrunch up all funny.
I smile at her, loving every inch of that beautiful face.
“I can’t leave Jackson. You know that. I’ve got to save enough for the both of us. It’s gonna be okay.” I squeeze her shoulder and pull out my pad. “Now, what are you two—”
“Annie!”
I flinch, then quickly smooth out my expression.
Dean’s bark always makes me jump, and I hate that.
“That’s me.” Forcing a cheerful smile, I wink at my best friend and spin around so I can face a man I’ve grown to hate. Not that I’ll let anyone in this diner know it. Like I’m gonna give Dean the upper hand. As best I can, I never let him ruffle my feathers.
Breezing around tables, I come to a stop in the archway leading through to the bar. Dean’s standing there with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders and powerful muscles making me feel smaller than I already am.
Flicking his head to the side, he orders me around the corner, so the people in the diner can’t see him yelling at me.
I lean against the wall and keep my gaze forward, staring straight into the devil’s eyes on his T-shirt. It’s one of his favorites—a dancing red Satan on white cotton. He only wears it when he’s working the bar. Maybe he thinks it makes him cool. I wish I could tell him it doesn’t.
“Stop letting your stupid friends distract you or I won’t let them come here anymore.”
“You can’t stop them from coming in. This is a public diner,” I whisper-bark. “Besides, I was just taking their order.”
“Bullshit!” he snaps, pointing at the floor with his big fat finger. “You’re here to work. You see them on your own time.”
A mocking scoff pops out of me before I can stop it. “I don’t have any of my own time thanks to you.”
His dark eyes narrow, that square chin of his dipping low as he bends down to get in my face. “Are you sassin’ me?”
A cold prickle sweeps through me, cutting off my air supply for a second. My mouth is filling up with sharp, spiky words that I want so badly to unleash. But the consequences of my unruly tongue nip at the back of my brain, helping me to keep my lips together and shake my head.
“What’d you say?” His deep growl makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
Gritting my teeth, I swallow the acid burning my throat and look him in the eye. “No, sir. I wasn’t sassin’ you.”
His eyes, so brown they’re basically black, tell me I better watch my step.
“Now, can I please have two root beers for Booth Three?” I know that’s what Franks and Billy will want, so I can save face and pretend I at least took their drinks order.
Dean grumbles something under his breath and disappears behind the bar. I wait by the archway, scanning the diner to make sure no one needs me. Mr. and Mrs. Yates are finishing up their meal, but they don’t look in a hurry to leave. I love the way her wrinkled hand sits inside of his, resting on the table like the idea of letting go of one another is just crazy talk. I wonder what that kind of love feels like. I doubt I’ll ever know. When I’m old, gray and wrinkled, I’ll probably still be waiting these damn tables.
My throat burns as I grind my teeth together and try to shoo the thought away.
“Here you go.” Dean appears behind me, shoving a tray into my hands so the liquid sloshes over the rim of the glasses. “Nothin’s on the house.”
I give him a toxic smile. I’m not sure what it looks like, but his glare tells me I’m on thin ice. I spin away from him before he can make me say “sir” again.
7
A Side of Hella Hot Guy
My heart feels like it’s been stomped on by a rodeo bull as I place the two root beers down and pull out my ordering pad.
“What’s your flavor tonight, Franks?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I glance up from the pad to catch her pointed blue-eyed stare. It’s so like mine I sometimes wonder how we can’t be sisters. But she’s got the reckless chestnut curls, a heart-shaped face and hourglass curves I’d kill for. Unlike her D-cup, I’m an A. Straight and shapeless. Everything about me screams skinny stick figure, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.
“What?” I shoot her a look of my own, which makes her head tip to the side. “Stop looking at me like that. Did you not want root beer?”
“Of course I want root beer. What I also want is for Dean to show you a shred of respect. I saw his face before he pulled you round the corner. He was barkin’ at you for somethin’.”
“Franks, we’ve been through this. Don’t go wastin’ breath on a pointless fight. Now, tell me what you want. I’ve got other tables to look after.”
Franks rolls her eyes and nudges Billy to go first.
He starts listing off half the menu, and I scribble the order down. Unlike Franks, Billy likes to mix things up. He never just orders straight off the menu. Each item has a tweak or an adjustment. It drives Mateo nuts, which is why I can’t stop grinning as I write down Billy’s requests.
“And I’ll have…” Franks’s voice trails off as her eyes land on something by the door. “Oh my word. Hello, gorgeous.”
I glance over my shoulder, watching a man disappear through the door to the bathrooms. I don’t see much, just a scrappy leather jacket and a head of brown hair.
“Hey.” Billy nudges Franks, his face bunching with offense.
“I’m not looking for me, baby.” She grabs his chin and kisses him on the mouth. “I’m meaning for her.”
When she tips her head my direction, I roll my eyes. “Like I have time for a guy.”
I tap my pen on the pad and insist she give me her order. She mumbles out a chicken melt on rye with steak fries and extra ketchup. I don’t know why I even bother asking. It’s the same thing every time.
I go back over the order and look between them. “Is that all?”
“Oh, and I’d also like a side of hella hot guy for my best friend.” My glare is met with a smile as Franks gazes right past me. “Annie Mae Birdman, I know you say you don’t have time, but you better make some for this one.”
Billy looks like he’s just sucked on a lemon, and I can’t help myself. I glance over my shoulder one more time. Mr. Leather Jacket is facing me now and my breath hitches… but like, in a good way. He’s… yeah, he’s hella hot. That face looks like it should be on the cover of some magazine—GQ maybe, for one of them Sexiest Man of the Year awards.
Those full, pouty lips, that chin dimple… that face.
I turn back, bulging my eyes at Franks and sounding like a teen groupie. “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute.”