Page 5 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

I shifted, leaning my shoulder against the door so I could face her more. “I have a house back home, but I’ve had renters in it for the last five years. Don’t really have much need for one with all the traveling.”

“What’s after this?” she asked.

“I’ve got some ideas.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“I always thought I’d be settled by now, starting a family. It’s hard to do when you’re moving all the time.”

“Hard to do when you’re staying in the same place—at least for me.”

I was about to ask what she meant, how a catch like her could possibly still be single if a relationship was what she wanted, but instead, she turned into the parking lot of a chrome diner building.

“This is it,” she said.

I looked at the sign, taking in the retro design.

Waldo’s Diner.

For the first time, California reminded me of home.

Back in my hometown of Cottonwood Falls, this was the kind of place where old men would grab morning coffee and sit and talk about cattle prices for hours. I got out of the car, seeing couples and families through the large windows.

She reached for the door, but I stepped ahead and held it for her. At her questioning look, I said, “Making up for last time. A man never lets a lady open the door.”

“Who says I’m a lady?” she teased. Her soft, raspy voice made my pulse quicken.

Steeling myself, I said, “No one needed to.”

With a small smile, she stepped through the door and into the aisle that went down the diner between the barstools and booths. Even though we’d just come in, a group of women and one older man waved at her from the other end of the diner, smiles on their faces and a few assessing gazes sent my way.

I straightened my shoulders, mentally preparing myself to meet new people. I used to be shy as a kid, and it had taken a lot of practice to get comfortable meeting and working with strangers.

The first woman to slide down the circular booth to make room for us had light skin with dark brown hair and even darker eyes. “Hen, introduce us to your friend.” A ring sparkled on her finger as she waved at me.

Hen got into the booth next to her and corrected, “This is mycolleague, Tyler Griffen.”

Ignoring the confounding sting of her correction, I extended my hand to her friend. “Nice to meet you.”

She shook it, an impish grin on her face. “Iadoreyour accent.”

I chuckled. “That obvious?”

She nodded, then gestured at a curvy blonde next to her. “This is our friend Birdie,” then she pointed at a thin woman with black hair, olive skin, and a large smile. “My sister-in-law, Tess.” I shook their hands.

Then the man at the other end of the booth extended his weathered hand. “I’m Chester. This one’s grandpa.” He pointed at Birdie.

“Pleasure, sir,” I said, shaking his pale weathered hand, spotted with freckles.

He nodded, then grinned at the girls. “Good handshake. I like him.”

They laughed, and when all was said and done, I got into the chair next to Henrietta. Everything was going well, until I was enveloped by her scent. Intoxicated was more like it. And damn was it hard to think with her thick thigh brushing up against mine.

Between ordering our food, her friends asked me all the regular questions. Where are you from, how many siblings do you have, what is your job like, and then I got the surprising question from Mara.

“Are you single?” she asked.

Henrietta said, “Mara, that’s private.”

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