Page 30 of Domino
Domino
Her car is already at the lot when I park my bike, putting a smile on my face. Despite what my brothers think, I see nothing wrong with getting to know Ashley a little better. I’m not tying myself down to one woman, and I’m still keeping my options open. But why can’t Ashley be one of those options? After all, contrary to what Trig thinks, the kutte doesn’t make a woman automatically throw her panties at you. You still have to put in the effort to get to know them.
I slip my helmet and gloves into my saddlebag and lock it up, then head into the diner. As I step through the door, a bell overhead chimes, announcing my presence as I step to the hostess’ stand. The diner is done up in a ’50s style with lots of black and white tile, chrome, and red vinyl seats and booths. There’s a long counter to my right, with half of the stools being occupied. Booths line the wall to my left, and tables are positioned in the middle of the floor.
The air is thick with the smell of breakfast foods, and my stomach rumbles in response. I’m normally not a breakfast guy, but I have to admit, this place smells good, and although I’ve only been here a handful of times, I know they put out some good food. A girl in her early twenties, brunette, and with a killer little body, approaches me. She’s wearing a red and white striped dress that falls halfway to the knee and a white apron around her waist.
“Mornin’. You dinin’ alone this mornin’?” she chirps, her voice high and bright.
“I am. And I’d like to sit at one of Ashley’s tables, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Just follow me.”
Her eyes linger on mine for a long moment, but then grabs a menu from her stand and leads me through the diner. Most of the people are watching me surreptitiously, but a few are boldly and openly staring at me. The disapproval radiating off them is palpable, and I’m half-surprised somebody hasn’t approached the manager to have me thrown out on my ass. It’s still early, though.
The hostess sits me in a booth at the back, near the door to the kitchen, and drops the menu down in front of me.
“Enjoy your meal. And let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” she says, leaving me to wonder if the suggestive tone was intentional or not.
“Maybe Trig was right after all,” I mutter to myself.
I ignore the menu she laid down. Don’t need it since I’m a creature of habit. The first time I came in, I had the country fried steak and eggs, and really enjoyed it, so I’ve stuck with it every time. The guys have knocked me for being so predictable, but I prefer routine. I don’t necessarily like change all that much, and when I do stumble onto something that works for me, I tend to stay with it.
Routine, to me, is everything. It was the discipline instilled in me in the Corps and is the basis of everything I do. Every morning, I get up at five. I run five miles, then do a workout at the small gym I’ve put together in my garage. After that, I shower and get ready for the day. They can mock me all they like, but it’s a system that works for me. The Corps taught me the value of routine and discipline, so like everything else, I’ve stayed with it.
The door to the kitchen swings open, and Ashley steps out in her red and white striped work uniform, her hem a little higher than the hostess, giving me a nice view of her very shapely legs. When her eyes land on me, she nearly drops the plates she’s holding. Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open, an expression of shock crossing her features.
“You’re kind of adorable when you’re surprised. And that little dress looks amazing on you,” I say.
Her face turns bright red and she mumbles something that’s incomprehensible before turning and dashing off. I watch her as she goes to her table to drop off her plates, seeming to be stumbling over her words as she speaks to her guest. Ashley offers them a smile, then glances back at me before making her way over to the hostess stand and the brunette. I watch as they exchange words, both of them turning to look at me as they talk. I simply flash them a wolfish grin and a wave.
Her expression dark, her features tense, Ashley walks back over to my table and stares daggers through me.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
“Well, given that I’m sitting in a booth, inside a diner, with a menu in front of me, I think it’s a safe assumption that I’m about to have breakfast.”
“You know what I mean. You specifically asked to sit in my section.”
“Told you I was going to.”
She sputters, her face turning almost purple. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Well, that was your mistake then, huh?”
“You can’t be here.”
“As a paying customer, I think I’ve got a right to be here.”
“You know what I mean,” she hisses.
“You say that a lot. Do you think I’m a mind reader or something?”
A tall, gangly kid stops by and gives her a pointed look before turning to me, putting a wide, ingratiating smile on his face.
“Everything okay here?” he asks.
I do a quick check of his name tag. “Everything’s great, Keith. Ashley here was just telling me about the specials, and they sound fantastic. You know, she really is the best waitress you’ve got here. Always so welcoming and accommodating. She’s so friendly and kind, that she really makes breakfast the highlight of my day.”
