“Uh…coffee?”
“I asked for a splash of milk, not the whole damn carton.”
The coffee is almost black. I added a tiny bit of milk, just like he asked. But I bite my tongue, willing myself to stay calm. “I’m sorry for the mix-up. Let me grab you another one.”
“What kind of place is this that you don’t know how to make coffee?” he grumbles, glaring at me. “It’s not complicated.”
“You’re right, John.” The woman shakes her head, poking at the egg with her fork. “It’s today’s generation. Too busy looking at their phones to follow basic instructions.”
“Probably why she works at a diner.” John shoves the coffee across the table toward me, lowering his voice to a mutter. “Guess she’s not very bright.”
“Hey!” a voice booms from beside us, cutting through the room like a gunshot. Everyone hushes. I turn toward the source of the noise, my heart stuttering when I see Brewer standing up to his full height. He’s glowering at the couple in front of me as he takes a step out of his booth, eyes fixed on the man called John.
“The fuck did you just say to her?” Brewer asks, his voice a low growl.
Nobody moves. Nobody breathes. The whole diner is at a standstill.
“Are you talking to me?” John asks, his face turning an ugly shade of puce.
“You bet your ass I’m talking to you.”
“John, everyone’s staring,” the woman hisses under her breath.
Her husband doesn’t reply, and Brewer takes another step forward.
“I asked you a question,” he says. “What. Did. You. Say. To. Her?”
He speaks slowly, punctuating each venom-filled word while John cowers in his seat.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he mumbles, leaning into the corner of the booth. “We don’t need to make a scene.”
“If you don’t want any trouble, then get out of here right now,” Brewer snarls. “Or there’ll be trouble. You can count on that.”
The woman squeaks. “Are you threatening us?”
“No, ma’am.” Brewer turns his glaring eyes on her. “I’m promising you.”
The couple shoot a glance at each other, both of them redder than fire hydrants as they shuffle out of the booth and scurry away without a backward glance, muttering furiously to each other under their breath. The bell jingles as they leave the diner, and there’s a brief pause before the chatter quickly resumes, everyone continuing their breakfast.
But Brewer and I don’t move.
We’re standing barely two feet apart, and for the first time ever, his deep brown eyes are fixed right on me. He’s not looking away. There’s something protective raging in his gaze, almost feral in its intensity, and my heart feels like it might explode.
Nobody has ever looked at me like this before.
Like I’m worth protecting.
I can’t speak. Can’t move. Can’t do anything but stand here and stare right back at him.
What the heck is happening?
3
BREWER
Red-hot anger ripplesthrough me as I watch the couple scurry out of the diner. The man’s words are still ringing in my ears, and part of me wants to follow him out of here and teach him a lesson for speaking to Josie that way. But I don’t think she’d appreciate me brutalizing a customer right outside her workplace, so I force myself to stay put.
I turn to look at Josie, letting myself meet her gaze. She’s blinking up at me, her head tilted right back, plump pink lips parted as we stare at each other. Her eyes are a gorgeous shade of green, like dewy grass or a fir tree sparkling with frost.
