"I have to concentrate over here," I said to the guy. "But Carly said you wanted to pay extra to sit back here and have breakfast at Luna's table."
"Yes, that would be great," he said.
"Is it tomorrow?" I asked.
"Yes."
"What time, how many people, how long are you staying, and how much are you willing to pay?"
"Uh, n-nine A-M, for an hour or so. And there are just two of us. How much were you thinking?"
Honestly, I was not looking forward to dealing with people being back here with me. I had gotten better at the job, but it still took a lot of concentration for me, which was exhausting.
"A hundred dollars on top of whatever you spend on breakfast."
"Fine," he said, agreeing way too easily.
I glanced at him when he said that. I was wearing a serious expression, and so was he. He shrugged and smiled a little. Goodness, he was handsome.
"So, can we do it?"
"I’m not your server," I said, turning around to tend to my eggs. "We don't have servers. You see how it is here. You pay and get your drinks at the front. I'll walk over there and set the food in front of you, but that's all I can promise—especially on a Saturday."
"That's okay," he agreed.
"You can't talk to me or anything."
"We won't. Can I talk to him at full volume, though? He's a little hard of hearing. Will we bother you?"
"No," I said, easily.
The truth was that they would probably bother me, but I could get over it for a hundred dollars.
"Okay, so we'll be here at nine, and plan on staying for about an hour."
I glanced at him and nodded. Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds before I looked toward the stove again. There was a possibility I would never see him again. He might think twice about paying a hundred dollars to sit and eat a five-dollar protein cup. I wouldn't blame him if he did.
"That sounds good, I'll be here and see you then," I said, even though I had my doubts.
"Thank you so much. I'm Alex, by the way. Alex Stockton."
"Josie," I said, without looking at him.
"Josey Wales?"
"Yes," I answered dryly. "Only not spelled the same."
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not. I wish I were."
"That's a great name. Why do you wish you were kidding?"
"Because my mom hates it. She's never let my dad live it down."
"How does your mom hate it? Isn't she the one who named you that?"
"Yes, but that was before she knew it was a Clint Eastwood character. My dad didn't tell her about the movie when he came up with the name. I was five months old when somebody gave her the news."
