Page 18 of August Lane
For the first time since Luke reached the city limits, his stomach wasn’t filled with dread. He’d driven into town with a lead foot, praying no one would recognize him, but his mood improved at the sight of the old restaurant. He knew he’d have to face people eventually. But he needed something to make it all go down easier, and the familiar walls of one of his favorite places seemed like a smart way to ease back into his hometown.
“You waitin’ on a hostess or something?”
A grizzly, gray-haired Black man sat at a nearby table, a fork raised halfway to his mouth. Luke froze for a second, as he always did when a stranger recognized him, but the man looked idly curious at most, like his open newspaper wasn’t interesting enough to keep his attention.
Luke smiled. “No, sir. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Got lost in the moment.”
The man huffed, bored by Luke’s answer. “Well, you’re blocking the door.” He refocused on his meal, dumping maple syrup over his already soaked plate.
Luke grabbed a menu even though he didn’t need one. If the smell was the same, the food probably was, too. The left side of the dining room was dotted with customers, but the right was empty. He strolled to the right, not looking to get drawn into another conversation, but then heard another grumpy huff that stopped him midstride.
“Where do you think you’re going, son?” the old man chided.
“Leave him alone, Clyde.”
Luke’s defender was a young, blue-haired white woman wiping down tables.
“You know who’s working those tables. I’m trying to help the man, Gemma.” Clyde gestured toward the empty tables. “You plan on eating something?” Luke nodded. Clyde lifted his coffee mug and took a dramatic, leisurely slurp before answering. “That girl is in a mood. I wouldn’t sit over there if I was you.”
A different customer snorted, which set off a ripple of muffled laughter. Gemma sighed and waved at a table to Luke’s right. “Go on and sit down. She’ll be with you in a second.”
He didn’t slide into the booth with the ease he would have five seconds ago. A quick menu scan confirmed they still had the same numbers assigned to the same dishes. “Sundown with bacon,” he whispered.
“Just use the numbers,” someone mumbled.
It was exactly what August would have said. She’d given him so much grief about not using the menu’s shorthand that he came up with fifty different ways of ordering, just to watch her blood boil. He grinned up at his server, the story on the tip of his tongue, when a familiar gaze met his, and the world tilted.
“August?”
He stared, not quite believing his eyes. After a decade of pining over her memory, he could still see that version of her clearly—the large eyes, the cupid’s bow mouth, umber skin inviting as velvet. But now her hair was a cloud of curls instead of pressed straight. Her body was fuller, jarringly lush under her minidress. That beautiful girl had become a woman. The kind that made you crave things.
Luke moved to touch her arm, but she jerked back with a horrified expression that made him feel like shit. Of course she wouldn’t want him to touch her. All he could do was say her name again, like that would fix something, but it only seemed to make things worse. Her face shuttered, and she mumbled words he couldn’t make out. “What’d you say?”
She pulled her lips into what she probably thought was a smile. Theprocess looked painful and made him want to slide all the sharp objects out of her reach. “I said,” she gritted out, “Order. Something.”
“August. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Stop saying my name.” She grabbed the upside-down coffee mug and set it right side up with so much force he was surprised it didn’t crack. “Order so I can leave.”
“I didn’t know you still worked here. Au—Wait, why can’t I say your name?”
“I hate the way you say it. Overly familiar. Like it’s yours.”
He went still and tucked his hands beneath the table like she’d caught him stealing something. He’d forgotten how good she was at parsing people’s bullshit.
She tucked a curl behind her ear, impatient with his silence. “You want the Sundown, right?”
Luke watched her scribble on her notepad and caught her gaze when she looked up again. “You remember that?”
She rubbed her arm like the question made her itch. “Could you just place an order like a normal customer?” She propped up her pen and schooled her face into something politely bland. “Bacon?”
Her name nearly slipped out again. But a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that half the restaurant was watching their exchange like a tennis match. He stared blindly at the menu and muttered, “Yeah, with bacon.”
She pivoted and practically sprinted away. Luke watched her slap the order down at the kitchen window and then reach for an ancient coffee carafe. He shouldn’t stare. People would notice, and once someone figured out who he was, Luke Randall’s leery eyes would be the topic of conversation in every corner of town.
Still, he couldn’t look away. It had been years since he had the luxury of staring at August Lane. She still had that constellation of freckles on her calf. He’d traced it in his mind a thousand times.
“They’re working on it,” she said when she returned to fill his coffee cup. “That’ll be $893.67.”
