“I’ll walk with you,” Ramona said.
Dylan shifted to look at her, eyes so dark brown, they seemed fathomless. And freckles. Ramona had so many freckles—Dylan never knew she liked freckles, but god, she did. And paired with Ramona’s long lashes and pert little mouth, Dylan was having a hard time focusing.
Ramona wasn’t her usual type, that was for sure. Jocelyn had been long and lithe, blond and elegant and cold. Before her, there was Jackson Muñez—apparently Dylan also had a thing forJnames—who had been namedPeople’s Sexiest Man Alive two years ago with his black hair, amber eyes, chiseled jaw, and impressive arm muscles she used to like to bite during sex.
God, Dylan was a cliché. A walking, talking advertisement for Hollywood dating drama. Everyone knew what to expect from Dylan Monroe, which was why she was here in this diner. To change all that. That was probably why she found Ramona so attractive inthis moment—she was simply latching on to the unexpected. Not that Ramona wasn’t empirically attractive—she certainly was. It was just that Dylan had never gone for a non-Hollywood kind of girl. Unfamous. Hell, Ramona probably wasn’t even queer.
Werethere queer people in New Hampshire?
Jesus, of course there were.
Dylan shook her head…god, even her thoughts were babbling right now. She had to focus. Had to pour coffee. That was it. That was her whole world right now. She could do that…couldn’t she?
“Thanks,” Dylan said to Ramona, rolling her shoulders back. “But I’ve got this. I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
Dylan nodded, then circled the counter and drifted into the dining room. Eyes followed her, but she kept her smile in place.
This was a role.
Simple as that.
Eloise.
She was Eloise and she did this every day. She woke up every single morning, poured a bowl of hearty Cheerios, pined after a girl she’d met at camp forever ago, and showed up for the people in her life.
“Coffee?” she asked a cute little old lady with bluish hair.
“Oh, yes, dear,” the lady said, pink painted nails resting on her green mug.
Pour. No spill. Success.
“Coffee?” Dylan asked a beefy man with a bright red beard.
“Yes, please!” he boomed. “I loved you inSpellbound.”
“Thank you so much,” she said, smiling as she tipped the carafe toward his mug. He wasn’t exactly the normal demographic for that show, which Dylan found sort of endearing, and—
“What was it like hanging out of that helicopter?” he asked.
Her smile dipped, as did the carafe, spilling a puddle of coffeeonto the floor. It landed with a splash, sprinkling the man’s tan boots and jeans.
“Watch it, darling!” he said, scooting his chair back, the legs screeching against the wood floors.
“I’m so sorry,” Dylan said, but stood frozen, no clue what to do. “I—”
“Coffee’s on us today, Hal,” Ramona said, appearing next to Dylan with a towel and bending to mop up the spill. She looked up at Hal, eyes dark and lovely. “Thanks for being patient with Dylan. She’s training. You know how it is when you start a new job.”
Hal frowned at the coffee splatters on his jeans, but then he nodded. “Sure do. Just started a new contracting job, myself. No worries at all.”
“Thank you, Hal,” Dylan said evenly, though her heart was galloping under her sternum, hands shaking.
“It’s just coffee,” Ramona said to her, taking her elbow and leading her away. “It’s okay. It’ll wash out, and Hal usually leaves here with bacon in his beard anyway.”
Dylan managed a laugh, but her nerves were close to shot. Itwasjust coffee, but it also felt like so much more. She couldn’t even handle a simple question about one of the most infamous moments of her life; how was she ever going to remake herself?BecomeEloise Tucker?
“Table five’s order is ready,” Ramona said. “Why don’t you handle that? It’s only two plates. Easy peasy.”
