Page 31 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“You awake?” I asked.

“You decent?” he countered.

“Yes,” I snorted.

He popped his hat up and looked up at me.

“All clear. No one here but us chickens.” He gave me a cheesy grin. “Now go nap.”

“Well, about that,” I said, stepping into my room. It was weird to think of it as mine. “Showers tend to wake me up, so—”

“So breakfast?” Barrett suggested.

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

I knew it was a bad idea. I knew that I would crash hard later, but for now, I was going to take advantage of my wakefulness while I could. I stepped into a pair of white flip-flops and frowned. At one point, my toenails had been painted a deep, plum purple. Now they were chipped and scuffed. I could not go out in public like this.

Grumbling, I kicked them off and grabbed my black tennis shoes instead.

I was a hot mess, and it showed.

Barrett was already downstairs, waiting. In typical country boy fashion, he was annoyingly impatient. Snatching my keys and purse off the table near the door, I shuffled out the front door, carefully locking it behind me, and then we climbed into my car, and off we went.

I’d opted to let Barrett drive. I didn’t trust my sleep-deprived brain not to put us in a ditch. I must have nodded off, because just a few minutes later, Barrett was shaking me awake in the parking lot of good ole Mae’s.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, and I nodded, stretching. I had to stifle my yawn before I pushed the door open and struggled out of the car.

“Yes. We’re already here.”

Shuffling through the door, I was a little shocked to find it nearly empty.

Oh yeah, it was still balls early, wasn’t it?

The only faces in the place were Mae, standing behind the counter, the cook clinking dishes in the kitchen, and Sheriff Banner sitting in a booth way off in a corner, nursing a cup of coffee and reading a newspaper.

“Wanna sit at the counter?” Barrett asked.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” A sudden thought struck me. “Just give me a second. Order me whatever you’re having. I’ll be back.”

I didn’t know what I was going to say exactly. I just knew that it was the perfect opportunity.

With my head down, I strolled across the diner towards the sheriff, my heart flip flopping in my chest. What was I going to ask him exactly?

Oh hey, could you maybe have a cop car outside my house 24/7? I have a stalker.

I couldn’t just say that, could I?!

“Hey there, Nessa,” he said, smiling up at me.

Had I really just been standing there like a moron?

“H-hi, sheriff,” I said, smiling. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“Something bothering you?” he asked, motioning toward the empty seat across from him.

With a mutter of thanks, I slid into the booth and set my purse down beside me.

“Well, a little I guess.”

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