Page 10 of Rockstar Baby
He pressed a combination of buttons and “Bang a Gong” came through the speakers. He came back toward me with a little swagger in his walk before sliding back into the booth. “Thanks.”
I pressed my lips together against a laugh. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. I hate eating alone.”
I rolled my tongue along the back of my teeth. “I’m working.”
He glanced around the room. “Think your boss won’t mind.”
“You don’t know my boss.”
“I’ll pay for your meal.”
“You keep wanting to pay for things for me. My time, my food…” I tipped my head. “Then you play this song.”
“Are you telling me you’re dirty and sweet like the girl in this song?”
“Maybe.” My heart was going to bang its way out of my damn chest.
“Do you want to be my girl…for tonight?”
Yes! Holy shit, yes!
“It remains to be seen.” I twisted on my heel and burst out laughing when the song changed to “Happy Together” by the Turtles.
A sense of humorandhe was hot? Score.
Once I was in the kitchen, I used what was left of the bacon I’d cooked for him and dropped a basket of fries. The three minutes it would take would calm my freaking heart.
Did he really want to take me home?
Or to his hotel. That was probably more likely. He definitely wasn’t from here.
I made myself some cheese fries and filled a cup with ranch, blew out a slow breath, and pushed through the doors.
He looked up from his plate and sat up straighter. “Change your mind?”
I peered through the window out into the storm. “Since they’re not beating down the doors...”
“Do people actually come here this late? It seems like this little town probably buttons down at like half past seven.”
I set down my plate and slid across from him. “A few years ago, you’d have been right, but there’s a lot more people moving to the area these days.” I dipped my fry into the ranch and popped it into my mouth. “Ugh, heaven. Mitch won’t let me add it to the menu.”
He glanced down at my plate. “That looks decadent.”
“Better than chocolate.”
His eyebrow did that arching thing. “Now let’s not go that far.”
“I’m more of a mint girl, though I don’t mind some chocolate chips.” I pointed a naked fry at him. “But you can’t beat the perfection of mint ice cream without anything on it.”
“Is that right?”
I nodded. “Especially mine.”
He set his knife down on his plate and hung his fork along the edge. So unlike most of the people who came into the diner. Half the time, they didn’t even use utensils. He lifted his napkin off his lap and blotted his mouth, then leaned forward. “Is this special ice cream?”
I dragged my fry through the cheese and bacon on my plate. “Kind of. My own blend.”
