Chapter 4 #2
Nice men don’t exist, at least not in my world. Men like Liam McBride are fairy tale heroes relegated to the pages of childhood books, not flesh and blood and sitting right in front of me, giving me a sexy grin that is downright dangerous.
The only thing that draws my attention away from it is the diner door opening and that sound tinkling out through the space.
I drag my gaze from Liam in time to see two men walk in—one incredibly tall and muscular with a scruffy beard and long, sandy blond hair that hangs past his shoulders who would look like he stepped off the cover of GQ Magazine if he weren’t in the flannel shirt and ripped jeans, and the other with dark hair and even darker eyes but the same imposing build and commanding presence.
They both scan the diner and wave to a few people as they beeline directly for Liam and me, offering him a nod.
Some of the tension in my shoulders relaxes.
They aren’t strangers.
He knows them.
And for some reason, that makes me feel better. A little less like I have to watch their every move. But I still keep an eye on them as I put in his and the other tables’ orders and grab those ready to be brought out.
Liam’s eyes follow me the entire time, heating my skin, and I do my best not to peek over at him. But that’s impossible when I know he’s watching me. It’s like my body can feel his gaze like a fluid caress, and each time I move, that touch moves with me.
Somehow, I manage to serve both tables without spilling anything, and when Matt hits the tiny little bell on the top of the window that goes into the kitchen to let me know that Liam’s order is ready, I snag it and hustle over to his table.
“Here you go.” I slide his plate in front of him and set down his drink. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
He glances down at it, then smiles at me. “Nope. This looks great.”
I turn to the other men who have joined him at the table. “Anything for you two?”
They watch me curiously.
The one with dark hair raises a brow.
The blond’s mouth tilts in a half smirk, and he shakes his head. “We’re good. I think we have everything we need.”
The way he says it makes my skin tingle, and I step back and disappear into the kitchen as quickly as I can, anxious to find somewhere to cool off.
* * *
LIAM
Killian drags his gaze away from Lucky once she finally disappears into the back and focuses on my plate, and I know, before he even opens his damn mouth, what he’s about to say. “I know, for a fact, you did not order meatloaf, Liam. You fucking hate meatloaf.”
Jesus fucking Christ…
For a brief millisecond, I had hope that when he and Connor walked in, I might not have the confrontation I now know is coming. But the moment Lucky set down a plate instead of a bowl and I saw what was in my glass, that hope vanished as quickly as she did into the back.
I scowl at him and pick up my fork and knife and begin to cut into the slab of minced meat smashed together on my plate. “Maybe I’ve developed a taste for it.”
Even saying those words makes me almost gag.
Killian snorts, then reaches out and snags the glass in front of me that’s clearly filled with something that’s not Coca-Cola. He takes a sip of it. “And a Sprite! My, oh my, your tastes sure have changed significantly since we last sat at this diner only a week or so ago.”
I stab a piece of meatloaf, my stomach already regretting the fact that I’m about to actually attempt to ingest it. But I refuse to give Killian—or Connor, who watches with a smirk—the satisfaction of admitting Lucky gave me the wrong order and I didn’t tell her.
“You know what else has changed around here?” Killian leans forward, placing his elbows on the table with a grin. “The new waitress with the pretty blue hair.”
He inclines his head in the direction that Lucky just disappeared, and Connor snort-laughs, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “You’ve got it bad for her, don’t you, bro?”
I kick Connor under the table, and he winces.
“What was that for?”
“For being you.”
For being an asshole goes without saying since they both know exactly what they’re doing right now.
It is very intentional—their way of giving me brotherly love.
I shove the bite in my mouth and force myself to chew and swallow despite how badly I want to spit it back out.
God, I’ve always hated meatloaf.
Killian isn’t wrong about that.
I would much rather have the bowl of chicken soup I actually ordered, but after the day I can see Lucky is having, I wasn’t about to tell her she messed up my order—again—when I can scarf this down quickly—and hopefully without really having to taste it—and make things easier on her.
At least, a little bit.
It won’t help her keep food and drinks on the trays or stop mixing up orders, but it could get her through the end of this shift without more almost tears.
I didn’t miss the way she tried to rapidly blink them away before they fell earlier. Despite her attempts to keep her head down and hide her distress from me, it rolled off her in waves I couldn’t help but feel.
So, if eating this can make her day easier in any way, I’ll do it.
Killian laughs at Connor’s pain and my response. “Is this why we haven’t seen you at home for dinner all week?” He raises a brow. “Willow was actually starting to get worried. She thinks you’ve been avoiding us.”
Well, she isn’t wrong.
I have been after our conversation at the yard last week, but the way he’s watching me, I know he’s not only talking about the past several days.
Is it better to let him think I’ve been avoiding his wife and the memories that seeing her bring up, or is it better to just admit that there’s something about Lucky that keeps bringing me back to the diner every night, even if I don’t have Giz to return to her?
It’s a Catch-22 really.
Either way, I’m going to face the often relentless assault of the McBride brothers and their opinions.
“She’s new in town. She doesn’t know anyone, and she’s struggling a bit, so I’m trying to support her.”
Killian snorts and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Uh huh. As a friend, right?”
I shove another bite in my mouth and chew a little more violently than necessary. “Of course, just as a friend.”
I’m in no place mentally to be anything more than a friend to anyone, nor do I really have any experience in that regard. The only girlfriends I’ve ever had were in middle school and high school.
Casual.
A few dates here and there.
Never anything serious.
I wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like Lucky. Because something tells me she has far more experience in this world than I could ever have, and not the pleasant kind.
The way she’s always looking over her shoulder. How her eyes darken when someone she doesn’t know comes into the diner. Her shoulders stiffening when anyone asks her literally anything about herself. All of it points in one direction—not a good one.
And I’m not about to let Killian or Connor make her uncomfortable by sitting here and giving her shit when she comes back.
“Are you two just going to sit there to harass me, or is there a reason you came in?”
I was stuck on the far side of the mountain today dealing with the new logging plan, in the one place I never wanted to return to again.
And it’s left me…unsettled.
Maybe more so than I want to admit.
The turnoff to the homestead was far closer than driving into town. I could have been home an hour ago, eating dinner at Killian and Willow’s and spending time with everyone. Yet the only thing I wanted after today was to drive here. To see her.
Walking in and finding Lucky on her hands and knees, cleaning up another mess, felt like seeing myself today at that site.
Though the debris from the cabin has been long cleared and the trees are already being felled, I can still picture it all exactly as it was that day we hiked through the gorge.
I can still hear the gunshots and feel them whizzing past me. I can still hear Willow’s sobs as the memories returned. I can feel the plea in her voice for my father to tell her where Niall was.
All that pain won’t leave me.
And seeing Lucky in pain was enough to almost break me.
I am not in the mood for my brothers’ bullshit tonight. Not by a longshot.
Killian offers an apologetic grin. “I came because my wife wants me to bring her home a piece of apple pie for dessert.”
He elbows Connor.
Connor scowls at me, still reaching down to rub at his leg where I kicked him. “I just came for the wonderful company.”
The meaning behind the comment isn’t lost on me. People used to enjoy my company. Hell, I used to enjoy my own. But now, everything seems different.
Even this town feels different.
Almost like I don’t know it though I’ve been here my entire life.
Maybe it’s because I’m looking at it a different way, seeing it through different eyes.
The eyes of someone who now knows that something so awful could have been going on with none of us even realizing it for an entire year.
Or the fact that my mother could have been murdered and her body never found while my father went about living his life on and around McBride Mountain as if nothing had happened.
Any appetite I had is suddenly gone, and I push the plate away.
Connor chuckles. “I knew you weren’t going to eat that.”
“Shut up, asshole.”
Killian climbs from the bench, makes his way to the counter, and leans over it to place his order for pie with Elaine.
Connor scooches around to climb out as well, but pauses next to the table. “Can I offer you a piece of advice?”
“If I say no, are you going to do it anyway?”
He smirks, then leans closer, peeking to the kitchen area where a glimpse of blue hair flashes occasionally. “If you like her, do something about it.”
“That’s it?” I raise a brow at him. “That’s your sage wisdom?”
A low chuckle slips from his lips. “Believe me when I tell you, I wish I could take it.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He releases a heavy sigh and shoves his hand through his hair before he stalks toward the front door. “Later.”
Killian holds up the plastic to-go container in my direction and inclines his head. “See you later.”
I nod at him, and they both step out to the parking lot as Lucky reappears from the back, carrying a tray to one of the tables in the far corner.
Each movement she takes is measured, careful.
Her hips sway slightly in jeans that hug her magnificent curves, and she stops to unload everything with a smile at having successfully made it there in one piece.
When she’s done delivering their meal, she starts wiping down the empty tables and getting ready to close for the night.
I should go home, head up the mountain, spend some time with the family who apparently think I’m avoiding them, or out in my workshop on one of the many unfinished projects waiting for me there.
Yet I find myself sitting here every night.
Watching her…
The way that long, blue hair slides down her back and over her shoulder when it’s down. Or how adorable she looks when she wraps it up in a messy bun at the back of her head to keep it out of her way like tonight.
I never thought blue hair could be so sexy, but my fingers itch to know what it feels like. How soft it is. What it smells like.
Shit.
Killian was right.
I do have it bad for her.
And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.
When she finishes cleaning, she scans the diner and heads for my table. She glances at my plate and the two small bites I took from it. “You didn’t like the meatloaf?”
I force a smile. “Just wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.”
Suddenly her eyes widen. “Oh, God.” She presses her hand over her mouth. “You ordered soup and a Coke.” Her eyes dart to the glass, and she buries her face in her palms, shaking her head. “I’m such an idiot. I am so sorry. I don’t know why I thought I didn’t need to write that down, but—”
“Hey.” I probably shouldn’t do it. In fact, I know I shouldn’t, but her distress calls to me in a way that won’t let me not try to help. I reach out and gently brush her elbow until she looks at me. “It’s okay, really. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.”
She lowers her hands. “I can go get you a bowl of soup. Get you your right order. I—”
“Lucky, really, I’m fine, but…” Maybe it would be wise to just let it go, but I can’t help but push. “You seem a little rattled today.”
She releases a long sigh and squeezes her eyes closed. “That obvious, huh?”
I don’t know if telling her how obvious it is would help in this situation or not, so I simply offer her an understanding smile she sees when her blue eyes finally meet mine again. “I’ve been there. A lot, lately, if I’m being honest. Just take it one day at a time.”
That’s all I’ve been doing—struggling through every day with the memories, the nightmares, the unanswered questions, just hoping that they’ll eventually stop.
The only thing that has managed to distract me from my own demons has been the woman standing in front of me, who clearly has ones of her own.