“It’s okay, sweetie. I’m dreading Cameron being a teenager. Makes me crazy to think about it.”
“He’s five.” Janette laughed, grabbing my order and winking at me as she disappeared through the doors. I was in the middle of fixing the coffees when she returned and whispered to Sam before taking the pot from my good hand and towing me back into the office.
“What the—”
“Time to take a break.”
“Jan, we’re in the middle of the rush.”
“Yes ma’am, we sure are, and those hung-over bikers of yours seem to have quite an appetite on them.”
Just like that, all of my fight was gone and I let her tow me straight back into the office. Backing up slowly, my ass planted on the desk chair, the creak disappearing into the muted sound of the diner just beyond the thin walls. As tempting as it was, I couldn’t sit in that office the whole time they were there. I had to face the music, and in all likelihood, the ridicule eventually. Sooner was better than later.
“I can’t hide forever, Jan.”
“No, but I can give you fifteen minutes to compose yourself and clean that burn up a little, sugar.” I watched as she moved around the office, pulling out the first aid kit,before tugging my hand under a lamp and examining it. “Nothing serious, but I’m going to wrap it to keep it clean.”
I nodded, but I would have had the same reaction to anything she’d have said as the numbness of stark terror ran through my body. I was under no misapprehension as to who was out there. Had it been random members of the MC, Janette wouldn’t have reacted the way she was doing.
Drew Tucker was sitting in the diner and I was going to have to grow a set and march out into the seating area with the same strength and arrogance that I had confronted him with the night before. Scared or not, at least I would have my pride. I wasn’t going to grovel at this man’s feet no matter how much he expected me to.
“Jan.”
“Yes, sugar?”
“I’m not hiding from him. I can’t live in fear of these men.”
“That’s brave and all, but—”
I stood up, her eyes widening as she followed my actions. By the time I pulled the door out of my way, she was on my heels and mumbling under her breath. Aside from my parents’ funeral, it was one of the single hardest things I’d ever had to do. Ignoring Rusty’s grumbling about half his staff disappearing, I grabbed the tray with one of my table’s orders on it and headed to the swing door, bumping it out of my way with my ass before stepping into the chaos of the morning rush.
I could feel every eye of the leather-wearing Hounds on me as I moved around the room. The intensity of the stares made my stomach boil with nausea, but I kept my head up and my back straight before nodding at Sam and heading to theirjoined tables to take their orders.
I had nowhere else to go.
“Morning, y’all. Coffees are on the way. Have you decided what you want to eat yet?”
I looked around the table, forcing myself to meet the gaze of every man there. They were intimidating as hell, each one scrutinizing me as I stood, shuffling with discomfort from one leg to the other. Not one of them said a thing to me.
“If you haven’t decided, I’ll go get the coffee and be right back with you.”
Drew’s eyes were the last set I met, the greenish blue filled with sardonic humor as I stepped away from the table. He was enjoying every second of my discomfort. He was also utterly infuriating. I gripped onto that frustration with both hands and shrugged. It was better than fear, even if I couldn’t predict what would come out of my mouth next.
I walked backwards away from the table, watching his arm stretch over the back of the occupied seat next to him, his other hand pinching the hair under his bottom lip. One last look and he cast his eyes down at the menu, releasing me from his hold.
Turning around, I felt my heart in my throat. This was going to be a really long day.
“I’ll have the waffle platter.”
“Roughneck special for me.”
“Sausage.” Laughter started, all of the others ribbing the guy. “Fuck off, assholes.”
“Pancakes, with that cream shit and fruit. I can’t fucking stand syrup.”
The orders kept coming, half of them shouting at me before I could even turn and see who was speaking. I scribbledas fast as I could. Oatmeal, the greasy treat, the hash-brown wonder, platter after platter. My writing just grew worse with each one. Counting out the orders and doing a mental count of the men gathered around the table, I realized there was one missing.
“Who didn’t order?”
