He paused, seeing where this was going. He could keep running away from her, or he could set her straight. “Look, Heather,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I don’t think we should see each other again.”
A spark of anger flashed across her face, only to morph into a sweet smile. “Why not? We had so much fun together when we were dating, didn’t we?”
Now that he was fully remembering their relationship, the fun times had been few and far between. What could he tell her that would make her leave him alone but wouldn’t hurt her feelings?
She moved closer to him. “One date, Tanner. That’s all I ask. For old times’ sake. I’ll definitely make it worth your while.”
Panicked, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I’m, uh, kind of seeing someone.”
Her heavily mascaraed eyes hardened. “You gave me the impression you were single.”
Uh-oh. “I did?” He racked his brain. Had he said that in any of his texts? He couldn’t remember. He needed to pay more attention to what he texted—and to whom he was texting it.
“Yes. Your Facebook profile says it too.”
Facebook? He rarely posted anything on his profile, and when he did, it was usually about a special at Sunshine or the catering business. Even then he’d been lax in using social media. Had she been stalking him virtually? He didn’t like lying, but desperate times and all that...
“I’m sorry you got the wrong idea, but my girlfriend and I have been together a long time—”
“You just said you werekindaseeing her.”
Yikes. Time to regroup. “We started dating recently,” he said, searching for a valid response. “But we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“What’s her name?”
“Anita.”
Uh-oh. Why had he saidhername? He could have said anyone else, even Bailey. But no, without hesitation he’d said Anita.
“The waitress at the diner?”
If he could sink into Rusty’s oil-spotted parking lot, he would. But he couldn’t turn back now. “Yes. She’s my girlfriend.”
Rolling her eyes, Heather crossed her arms over her chest. “I find that hard to believe, Tanner.”
“Well, believe it. We’re serious too.” Why tell one lie when he could tell a dozen? Anita was going to strangle him for dragging her into this mess.
“Right.” Heather shook her head. “A waitress. You’re choosing a homely waitress over all this.” She gestured to her body and then patted her expensive Jeep.
Tanner’s jaw jerked. She could insult him but not Anita. “You’re out of line, Heather.” He opened the driver’s side door before he lost his cool and said—or did—something he would regret.
“You can do a lot better than her,” Heather shouted as he slammed the door.
He started the car, yanked the gearshift down, and spun out of the parking lot. His house wasn’t far from Rusty’s, and when he pulled into his driveway and put his car into Park, he drew in a deep breath. What a mess. Not only because of Heather, who was positively a hot one, but also because he had used Anita as an excuse. His hands gripped the steering wheel. All he could do was hope Heather had gotten the message—and that Anita didn’t find out he had lied about their relationship.
But what if Heather ended up coming into the diner again? He banged his head against the back of the headrest. How was he going to explain all this to Anita?
Maybe he wouldn’t have to.
He took out his phone and blocked Heather’s number. She’d been so furious when he left, she likely wouldn’t contact him again, especially when she found out she couldn’ttext him anymore. So there was no reason to tell Anita what he’d done—not right now, anyway. And if Heather did show up, he would deal with her on his own. Something he should have done in the first place.
***
When Anita arrived home after her shift at the diner, and after she’d rescued Peanut from the roof again, she went straight to her snack cabinet and grabbed the box of Little Debbie brownies—with colored sprinkles—she’d stupidly bought at the grocery store earlier that week. She walked into her living room, plopped on the couch, and plowed through two packages before she had a single coherent thought. There were still four packets left, and she was tempted to eat them all. Knowing she would probably end up throwing up if she did, she refrained. But only barely.
Her gaze darted to her living room floor. The empty wrappers and half-eaten box of brownies lay on the cream-colored carpet next to her sofa. Ugh, her stomach hurt.
I shouldn’t have done that.
