“Wow, this town,” he huffs. “You’re on the brink of closing and you’re turning customers away?”
I don’t look up but I make sure my voice comes out a little louder as I reply, “Not customers, just you.”
He pauses, tilting his head, like he’s studying me. Then it seems like, out of my periphery, he straightens his spine and crosses his arms.
“I’ll buy one of everything in this case,” he says. I don’t reply. “One of every single thing on your menu,” he tries. Madison makes a squeaky sound behind me. I stop wiping the counter and cross my arms too. I lift my chin and stare at a spot on the wall across the store, as if I can’t even hear him. “Two. I’ll buy two of every single thing you have made right now and take them to the workers at the site.” I don’t budge.
“Fine, you tell me what kind of order it will take,” he gets louder. “I’mthatdesperate for a good cup of coffee.”
I clear my throat and inform him, “The diner has coffee.”
“Ah,” he says, angry. “And perhaps, after the giant breakfast orders I plan to make, they’ll also have enough income to keep their doors open another month, unlike this outdated, overrated, and very likely overpriced little dump! You’re making a huge mistake.”
He storms out after that, huffy like a teenage girl.
Good riddance.
I heard the construction site up the mountain is secure now, much to the thinly veiled disappointment of Braxton and his buddies. He doesn’t need to be in town to scoff at our events, I’m sure he can scoff just fine from his jet.
So.
Hopefully this is the last I’ll see of Aiden Vanderwell for a very long time.
CHAPTER 7
Aiden
“What the actual hell?” I say, stomping down the street toward the diner.
“No coffee?” Renaldo smirks at me, clearly having seen the exchange while he waited outside.
I don’t answer as I make a beeline for the diner. He follows as I storm into the place on a singular mission. I want a coffee, I’m getting a damn coffee.
What is it with that woman? So what if I offended her precious little feelings with my rant about her town last night. This is business. I tell the truth because the truth is helpful. I meant to explain as much last night before she smiled and fled but I was trapped.
Those eyes.
They were greener than the four leaf clovers on her tray. So green shemustwear colored contacts. I couldn’t speak, I could only stare, trying to find the line of the lenses outside of her irises.
Never found the line. Then she was gone.
I considered another attempt at smoothing things over with her this morning, until she took one look at me and booted me out of her shop. Again.
Unreal.
It’s only a few strides to the counter top, complete with round topped barstools from the 1950s, if not earlier. We stand there and wait, since there’s not a soul to be found behind the counter or in the visible part of the kitchen. Of course. No urgency to, oh, I don’t know,make actual money!
“This town…” I murmur to my counterpart before taking in my surroundings.
I expected diner lore from the same era as the stools, back when there were sock hops or whatever. But instead I find…space garb? Neon, model ships, galaxies and artwork from the seventies. Plus Star Wars memorabilia from movies made just a few years ago. A life-size Chewbaca in the corner next to an equally large Tesla rocket model. Nothing matches or makes much sense, outside of being loosely related to outer space.
I must make a noise, prompting Renaldo to say, “Comet.”
I blink hard and exhale, ignoring him.
I’m not daft, I picked up on the reason for the decor. Just because I could puzzle it out doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.
Finally, a person appears behind the counter, humming and taking their sweet time.
