Chapter 52 Lucy
Morning comes around too soon, and the bed beside me is empty. Panic threatens to drown all my common sense, but I shove it into a box and bury it so far down, I won’t be able to find it with a shovel.
Stretching, I feel the sweet soreness from last night and remember the way my lips tingled after that kiss under the moon. How my toes curled in my boots and my heart damn near exploded when he told me he loves me.
A knock sounds on my door and I pull my sheets up over my breasts so I don’t accidentally flash anyone.
Reese nudges the door open carrying a tray filled with pancakes, waffles, toast, bacon, and eggs. He even made a small plate of fiesta potatoes. Looking up at him I release a relieved giggle.
“Good mornin’, Goldie,” he says, placing the tray on the corner of the bed. “I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I made a little bit of everythin’.” He offers me a plate and spoons eggs, bacon, and potatoes onto it.
“You didn’t scare Mawmaw, did you?” I ask, only half joking.
He chuckles and runs a napkin over his mouth. “I don’t think that woman scares easily.”
I shrug and stab one of the fluffy pancakes.
“Though she did inform me that her ears work just fine, and she’s happy for us.”
Snapping my face toward his, I almost choke on the pancake I shoved into my mouth. “Shesaidwhatnow?”
His laugh nearly sends him crashing to the floor and I cough, sputtering as I down the water bottle he brought with him.
Clearing my throat I try again, “She said what?”
“It was a wonderful introduction, I must admit,” he continues laughing, and all I can do is stare at him slack jawed.
Goddamnit Mawmaw.
After breakfast, I walk Reese down the stairs to the porch and wave as Mason pulls into the drive. Reese called him so I could sleep a little longer this morning. Since I had everything ready for the diner, I’ve got a rare clear schedule.
“Don’t let me forget, I’ve got somethin’ to run by you later, okay?” He says after kissing me senseless and running to the truck.
I nod and wave, watching until their truck can’t be seen.
Heading back inside, I curl back up in my bed. The sheets hold his scent and I fall asleep dreaming of him.
The diner’s packed, people dressed to impress heading to the rodeo. Especially the young girls, they’ve got on their best clothes, newest boots and cleanest hats. The boys have shiny belt buckles and tucked in button downs.
It reminds me of what Indy and I used to be like, young and excited for something new to come to town. All the possibilities of meeting someone new.
A man comes in skirting the hustle, hat down low and sits at the counter. It’s not uncommon for strangers to come in alone, most of them are scouts or sponsors, people who fly under the radar on purpose.
My tables come and go, some familiar faces, others not. Some I wish wouldn’t come so often. It’s a good night though. Tips are flowing, and desserts are selling. We decided not to sell whole desserts today so they’ve lasted longer. Though looking at the case, I’m not sure how much longer.
“Ma’am,” the man sitting at the bar catches my attention, “mind if I have a slice of that blueberry pie?”
Not from around here then, he talks too plain to be from here.
“Of course, give me just a minute,” I duck into the kitchen and dump the dirty dishes from my last table in the washing tray. One of the cooks can fix them or I can later when I catch a moment.
Washing my hands real quick, I head back out and grab the last pie we’ve got. Two slices sit in the silver tin and I almost save the other for Reese knowing how much he enjoys my sweets. I like surprising him.
“Want it zapped in the microwave with a little ice cream, hon?” I always like to ask, sometimes ice cream on a warm piece of pie is the cure someone needs.
He nods, and I try not to dwell on the fact that I’ve yet to see his face. Maybe he’s shy. We get a lot of those too, especially since we’re really friendly around here.
Popping the piece of pie onto a plate I let it heat for a few then pull it from the microwave topping it with a hearty scoop of ice cream that instantly melts when it hits the pie. Setting it down in front of him along with a fork, I leave him to it.
Making rounds with refills, taking more orders, I wink at Briar. She’s really gotten the hang of the diner and I’m beyond proud of her. She decided to work tonight so that Sydney could have it off. So I hope she’s out somewhere shaking her ass and living her life.
The register gets backed up, and I can’t find Mawmaw anywhere. Making sure Briar’s okay manning the floor by herself for a bit, I check everyone out and thank them for coming. The lone man walks up with his ticket and I ring it up, “That’ll be $12.85, I hope that pie hit the spot.”
He tips his head up just enough that I catch a glimpse of his face. He doesn’t comment, only takes his card out and swipes it along the machine.
“Would you like your receipt?” I ask just like always.
He still doesn’t utter a word, only shakes his head and walks out after signing the copy for us, leaving a rather generous tip.
Shaking off the strange encounter, I smile and help the next person until the line’s gone and muscle memory takes over for the rest of the night.