I approach the host stand and wait, eyeing the “Please Wait to Be Seated”sign that is clearly just a formality—not an actual rule. Not in a small town like this, at least. I doubt they’re ever busy enough to warrant a waitlist.
A minute or two into my wait, Bennett comes walking out from the kitchen, a plate of French toast centered on one hand and a plate of eggs and hashbrowns balanced on the other. He doesn’t notice me at first, taking the food to the elderly man, who gives a huff in thanks.
“Enjoy, Mr. Grames,” I hear him say, the low sound of his voice sliding down my back quite nicely. Bennett really is handsome.
He has an air about him that reminds me of the cute boy next door. His shiny blond hair, tanned skin, and bright eyes. He clearly takes care of his body, either hitting the gym or taking part in some kind of recreational sport. And he has that small-town gentleman personality going on.
It’s kind of impossible for a gay guy like myself—who has an affinity toward strong, kind men—not to be interested in getting him naked.
Bennett turns toward me, eyes widening slightly at the sight of me. As he walks through the maze of tables, his gaze drags overmy body in a slow, appreciative crawl. Intentionally. He’s telling me something with his eyes.
“Elijah,” he greets, a grin lifting the left side of his mouth and flashing just a hint of his white canine. “Good morning.”
“It is,” I reply, giving a smile of my own. “My boss has asked me to grab coffee.”
Bennett raises a brow.“Your boss?”
“Yeah, I work across the square.” I thumb behind me, not able to tear my eyes away from his.
“Ah,” he says. “John. Yeah, he is a coffee man through and through. You must be out of coffee grounds.”
It will never cease to amaze me how much these local folk know about each other. I swear, no one here willeverknow that much about me.
“We are.”
He waves at me, having me follow him toward the kitchen.
Before the two stainless steel doors that lead you into the employees-only area of the diner, there is a drink station. Bennett loads a fresh pot of coffee, letting it brew as he turns back to face me.
I spy a bucket of dirty dishes set to the side of the counter, a few steak knives pocking out.
“Have you had breakfast?” I tilt my head curiously at his question, effectively diverting my attention away from the cutlery before I have a panic attack.
“I normally don’t, no. Coffee does the trick,” I tell him.
He tsks, shaking his head as he says, “It’s not healthy for a grown man to skip breakfast. Here.” He reaches into a displaycase no more than a few feet away, pulling out two large muffins. “These are homemade—a diner specialty. John loves them.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the brown bag he’s packed them in.
Bennett just grins even harder, leaning his hip against the counter as he stares me down.“How are you settling in, Elijah?”
“Eli is fine,” I say, rocking back on my heels nervously. His attention is kind of overwhelming. “And fine. Just working and such.”
Bennett nods.
“Good to hear.” He turns then, filling two paper cups with black coffee before capping them and handing them over.
“How much?” I ask, looking for a place to set everything down so I can manage to grab my wallet.
“Consider it a welcome-to-Fort Myers gift,” he says, taking a single step toward me. My eyes narrow.
“Are you sure? Won’t your boss get mad?”
Bennett lets out a soft, deep chuckle.“I don’t think my dad is gonna bitch too hard. Tell John I said good morning. And come have dinner again soon.”
I try not to read too much into the way he’s leaning toward me, or the way his arms seem to look bigger than they did the last time I saw him. I’m trying so hard, in fact, that I almost miss thedadcomment. So his dad runs this diner? Interesting. It must be a family business.
“I will,” I promise, nodding once before turning around and heading out of Tabitha’s Place. I can feel Bennett’s eyes on my back the entire way.
