Page 8 of Rockstar Baby
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Contrary girl.”
“Very.” I grinned and tapped his shoulder with my pad. “No harm. Unfortunately, I can’t close the diner.” I almost said I was the only one here, but he was a stranger. I might be a small town girl, but I listened to true crime podcasts. Far too many to be healthy sometimes, but they were so fascinating. The women from Vee’s baby group had passed around names and episodes like prenatal vitamins. And the worst of the stories happened in a small town.
No thanks.
I rose. “Let me just put your order in.”
“If you must. The idea of you for breakfast is far more interesting.”
“Because you don’t know me very well.” My skin was tingling and I was sure my freckles were literally glowing under my long-sleeved top. I put an extra sway in my step as I walked away.
The Animals piped through the speakers. Mitch had just put the retro jukebox in the diner and the constant rotation of 45’s wasn’t annoying yet. Especially with the number of singles my boss had in his collection. The playlist was forever changing and the colorful machine made him smile.
Mitch in a good mood meant the rest of us were in a good mood.
Once I got to the swinging door, I rushed through and back to the small bathroom. A quick look in the mirror assured me the damage was as bad as I’d feared. “Good Lord, girl.” I debated going back to my purse for my other eyelash, but it was fairly ruined. Damn margarita. I peeled the other one off and groaned. I really needed to start over. Glue and an uneven line of eyeliner belied my very steady hand.
“Fuck it.” How many times was I going to have a hot dude in the diner?
Especially one who actually looked at me like I was more than just August Beck’s little sister. His hotness factor clicked up a few simply because he didn’t know me or this town.
I rushed back to my locker and dragged out my purse. Of course I didn’t have my good makeup bag on me. I had my baby purse for the bar and I looked like a reject from an Elvis movie.
It had been 60’s night at The Spinning Wheel. Music and games from that era. The entire town was bored as hell this time of year. Barely anything to do but watch snow fall.
And I was very sick of snow.
The Sap Fest was starting tomorrow, so at least there was that. Not exactly in town, but close enough to bring a few strangers into the vicinity. My customer didn’t look like he’d ever gone to a festival in his life. At least not one that included maple syrup.
I dug around with a small prayer. “Yes!” I grabbed the black liner and rushed back to the bathroom. I ended up with a bit of a smokier look than usual, but it was better than the twistedAlice in Wonderlandlook I was rocking before. I freshened up the deep lip stain with some gloss and smoothed my hand over my tight shirt. It might not be the current fashion, but the green and pink records pattern was funky and the top kept me warm.
I quickly reached back for the strings on my stained apron. That had to go.
I washed my hands and rushed back into the kitchen to pull out the fixings for the big boy breakfast. Cooking was second nature to me. I didn’t run the grill too often, but enough that I didn’t have to think about what I was doing.
Normally.
It wasn’t like there were no attractive men in the Cove, just none that actually made my heart race. I peeked out into the diner to make sure he was okay. He was holding his phone up close to the window. Good luck finding a signal in this storm.
Then I burned the toast and had to trash it.
Pay attention to the food, Ivy. Not to the dude outside.
I poured a juice and a water and backed out through the door.
“Here we go. Your food is almost ready.” Only a little bit of a lie.
“Is there a big dude named Mick in the back?”
“Close. His name is Mitch.” Except Mitch was probably sound asleep next to his fireplace right now.
“Of course it is.” The way his accent slipped around the vowels of his words made something flutter in my chest. Energy, happiness…lust?
Maybe.
Interest more than lust perhaps.
Lust wasn’t for girls like me. I was the forever girl. The one who would marry a teacher and pump out two kids.
