Betty nods toward me when the bell above the diner door catches our attention.
“Oh, shit!” I scream as I slide beneath the table like it’s 1952 and an atomic bomb is on its way.
Betty’s loafer-covered feet shuffle back before she dips down to check on me, her long silver hair falling to the side as she stares. “Do southern belles usually scream‘shit’and duck under the table before lunch, or is this on account of Wyatt being here?”
I search through the catalog of lies in my head, hoping to find one that fits this very scenario, but nothing comes to mind fast enough.
“The blood is rushing to my head, sweetheart. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”
I drag in a deep breath and blow it out quickly. “I haven’t seen Wyatt since I got back. I don’t know if I’m ready yet. And… why does he have to look so good?”
“He always looks that good. The boy has Davis genes. All those men look like they were carved by the Lord, while the Devil made their personalities.” The end of her sentence trails off as she stands, and I’m left under the table with a scarf someone left behind and two long-lost French fries that have some kind of sticky substance holding them together.
At least I know I’ll be warm and fed should I decide to live beneath this booth for the rest of eternity.
“Well, hello there, handsome!” Betty steps away from the table and shuffles toward who I can only assume is Wyatt. “Haven’t seen you in for a spell. What can I get ya?”
No! No! No!
Don’t seat him! Tell him the ovens are all broken. Tell him there’s a gas leak. Tell him there’s a bomb in the bathroom.‘What can I get ya’implies we want him to stay.
We don’t want him to stay.We want him to leave now!
I peek out from under my table fort to see she’s sitting him on the opposite side of the diner with his back to my booth.
Okay, that’s something. I’m definitely not getting cranberry pancakes, but I will get a straight shot out of this place without running into the one man I can’t see today. Sure, I have big news to tell him, but not now. Definitely not now. I still need to think about what I’ll say, how I’ll say it, what words I’ll use, and in what order I’ll use them.
His big boots stomp across the floor and it does absolutely nothing to me sexually at all. Why would it? It’s not like women are attracted to the brawny, heavy footsteps of a big, strong man or anything.
That’s ridiculous!Women are attracted to men for much more complex reasons than how big he is. His brain, his ability to process emotions, his work ethic, his—
My gaze draws upward toward his ass. My God, that man can really wear a pair of jeans!
My heart’s hammering against my chest when I notice Betty frantically waving her hands behind her back in my direction as though it’s my cue to run.
I slide up from under the table, desperate to get out of the diner that I so desperately couldn’t wait to get into, though it seems the diner has other plans for me.
I’m almost on my feet when my favorite red jacket snags on something, creating resistance as I try to crawl out from the tiny little fortress I’ve sunken into.
What the hell?
I tug harder, my heart pounding as Betty waves more frantically. I don’t know what the speed of her hands has to do with anything, but it’s making me feel like Wyatt’s about to turn around.
I whip back into my fort quickly, looking to see what’s got hold of my jacket, but the space is small and I can’t get to the corner I need to get to.
Oh my God. Only me. This could only happen to me.
“Alice?” Wyatt’s deep voice reverberates through me, sending my stomach and my heart straight to the floor. “Is that you?”
He’s not sure yet. Maybe I should try for southern belle again and see if he falls for it. Clearly, I’ve got the demeanor down.
I glance back toward the light and see the massive work boots making their way toward me.
This is all some sick game from the universe. I can feel it.
Why else would the one man I’m trying to avoid be here to find me chained beneath the diner table I love…lovedso much?
“Hey.” The greeting gets caught in my throat and sounds more like a frog than a person. “Yeah. Just, ugh…” I’ve got nothing.
