He looks nothing like Derek to be triggering my need to run this badly.
Dark hair to Derek’s blond. Brown eyes to my ex-husband’s jade green. Even their builds are different. This guy is lean and barely six feet tall. Derek is nearly six-two and has shoulders that belong on a football player because he used to be one. The biggest similarity between this man and my ex-husband is that both are betas.
It's his energy.
Some people throw out an energy that you don’t like, can’t trust and want to run as far away as your legs will carry you to get away from them. The second he’d walked in, dressed in blue jeans and a football jersey, sliding his sunglasses from his face as his eyes scanned the room, something about him repelled me.
But I’d still done my job, gone over, since that’s what I’m supposed to do when someone who doesn’t know where they want to sit hovers by the door. I’m supposed to show them to a table, hand them a menu, and tell them I’ll be right back to take their order after they’ve looked it over. Not abandon them.
“Maisie?” Lina prompts. “I can deal with him if you want.”
“The lunchtime rush is about to hit,” I remind my coworker. “And your section is packed. I’ve got it.”
She gives me a long look, ignoring the burger and fries sitting on the front hatch that Winston had put down, glanced between us, and disappeared back into the kitchen without reminding us to stop talking and do our jobs.
“I can take one more table,” she says.
She probably can. Lina has been working in the diner since she was in school, when she used to help her dad on the weekends. She could handle all the tables with no help from me, but that isn’t fair.
“I’ll be okay.Promise,” I reassure her, pasting on a reassuring smile, when she lingers. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
When she still doesn’t move, I give her a gentle nudge, prompting a grin. “Okay, okay, I get the message. Holler if you need help, okay?” She grabs the burger and fries from the hatch and sets them down on her tray.
As she hurries to one of her tables with her tray, I take a breath for courage and release it in a quiet sigh. Smoothing the front of my apron nervously, I head to the table of one and hope for the best.
“Hi, I’m Maisie. Are you ready to order?” Nervous but determined to do my job, I pull my notebook from the large front pocket in my white half-apron. With my pen in my right hand, I’m ready to jot down his order and make a hasty escape.
I handed him a menu before I left him alone to decide what he wanted to order. I’ve been away much longer than I usuallyam. Typically, I’m back in a couple of minutes, at least to get drinks if my customers haven’t decided on food yet, but with this guy, I was hoping he wouldn’t like anything on the menu and leave.
He licks his lips. “I was wondering when you were coming back, gorgeous.”
I shift from foot to foot, my white tennis shoes squeaking against linoleum. “Did you want to start with a cup of coffee? We have a couple of slices of cherry pie left. The rest’s sold out for today.”
His gaze dips, andnotto the tiny notepad and pen I’m gripping so tight my fingers hurt. As the tip of his tongue wets his lower lip, the contents of my stomach curdle.
“What I had in mind was something not on the menu,” he says with his eyes on my breasts.
I should have let Lina handle this. She would have been brisk and firm, gotten his order, and not taken any abuse or unwanted flirty behavior, all while keeping a convincing smile pasted on her face.
Not me.
Ever since I left Oregon in my rearview mirror, I spend my time balanced on the edge of running and hiding.
Derek did that to me.
Years spent walking on eggshells. Of not knowing what word or action would set him off that day. I would apologize for no reason. I would control every aspect of my body that I could,terrifiedthat the one word I said would be the wrong one. And I was conscious that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldalwaysmess up.
There are some situations that I can manage. This is not one of them.
I retreat from his table. “I’ll come back.”
He’s grabbing for my wrist when a man inserts himself between us.
“Yeah, you need to go.” It’s less of a suggestion and more of an order delivered in the tone of a man who doesnotintend to repeat himself.
My heart was pounding so hard against my chest that I almost didn’t hear him. Recognition comes slower.
He’s standing in front of me, slightly to the side, so when I take in his profile, I’d have known who he was even if I’d missed his scent.
