16. Jonah #3
I drag my gaze upward with visible effort. “You appear to be stuck.”
“Mhm.” She makes absolutely no move to fix the situation. “And you appear to be having a crisis. Ready to change your mind yet?”
The open side of the flannel slips farther as she moves. My jaw tightens.
“Lila.”
“What?” she asks innocently. Completely fake innocence. “I’m injured. I require assistance. Come help me, Professor.”
My hands work slowly, deliberately, freeing the twisted sleeve while trying very hard not to think about how close she is or how good she smells or the fact that one slight movement would press her body flush against mine.
“There,” I murmur once the flannel finally falls properly into place.
But neither of us steps away.
Lila looks up at me through dark lashes, mouth curved at the corners.
“You know,” she says softly, “you’re surprisingly good at handling delicate situations.”
I laugh quietly under my breath. “I’m trying not to aggravate your injury.”
“Mhm.” Her eyes flick knowingly down my face. “Pretty sure that’s not the only thing you’re trying not to aggravate.” Lila bites back a smile.
Then Max lets out a dramatic whining huff from beside the bed, tail thumping impatiently against the floor.
Lila glances down at him and sighs theatrically. “Fine. You’re right. We should probably leave this motel room before Professor Self-Control finally snaps from seeing a little side boob.”
I open my mouth to argue. Then close it again because, unfortunately, she’s probably right. A few more minutes in this motel room, I’ll combust.
By the time we finally make it out the door, Lila is smiling to herself like she’s won something, and honestly, she probably has. Max trots between us as we make our way to the truck.
“I'll drive,” I say, opening the passenger door for Lila before she can argue.
“You say that like I have a choice,” she mutters, but climbs in without protest.
We climb inside, and within a few minutes, the diner appears on our right just as promised, a squat building with a blinking “OPEN” sign and a half-full parking lot.
I pull in, parking in a spot that gives Lila the shortest path to the door.
The morning sun glints off the chrome trim of the building, giving it that quintessential American diner glow.
I've always had a strange appreciation for these places—unpretentious establishments where coffee never stops flowing and breakfast is served all day.
I get Max out of the backseat when Lila says my name, and points to the door of the diner. A hand-lettered sign on the door reads No Pets (Service Animals Excepted). I pause, glancing down at him.
“We can’t leave him in the truck,” Lila adds, following my gaze.
“I’ll stay out here with him,” I offer, even though I’m not thrilled about missing breakfast. “You go ahead and get something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We can just get it to go.”
I lead Max back to the truck, guilt tugging at me as his ears droop, like he knows he’s being left behind. “It’s just for a little while, buddy,” I tell him, helping him into the backseat. I crack the windows enough for airflow, but not enough for him to squeeze through.
Max settles onto his blanket with a quiet huff, watching me in a way that feels suspiciously like disappointment. I lock the truck and head back to Lila, who’s watching a family pile out of a minivan, kids racing each other to the diner door.
“He gave me the sad look,” I admit as we head inside.
“They always do,” Lila says. “It’s their superpower.”
As we step inside the diner, the smell of coffee and bacon hits me immediately. The place is about half-full, mostly locals from the looks of it, gathered in vinyl booths and at the counter. A waitress with a name tag reading “Darlene” approaches us, notepad already in hand.
“Table for two?” she asks, her eyes briefly taking in Lila's sling.
“Actually,” I say, “do you take to-go orders? We have a dog waiting in the car.”
Darlene nods, tapping her pen against the notepad. “Sure do, honey. What can I get for you folks?”
My mind suddenly goes blank as I stare at the menu board behind her. All the breakfast options blur together, and I find myself unable to make a simple decision about food. I glance at Lila, who's looking at me with barely concealed amusement.
“Um, we'll take...”
“Two of the Sunrise Specials, please,” Lila answers for me. “Extra order of scrambled eggs on the side.”
“Coffee with those?” Darlene asks.
“Yes, please,” Lila jumps in, saving me from another moment of indecision. “Largest size you've got.”
Darlene scribbles on her pad, then looks up with a smile. “You folks passing through or staying a while?”
“Just passing through,” I answer.
“Well, if you’re looking for somewhere to take that dog of yours,” Darlene adds, tucking her pen behind her ear, “there’s a nice little dog park about three blocks down on Maple. Got some picnic tables too. Might be a good spot to enjoy your breakfast.”
“That sounds great,” I reply, oddly grateful for the suggestion. “Max would appreciate some time to run around.”
“Most folks do.” Darlene gives a quick wink. “Both the four-legged and two-legged kind. Your order should be up in about ten minutes.”
As she heads toward the kitchen, Lila leans against the counter, bracing herself with her good arm. “See? Small towns have their advantages.”
“What do you think comes in a sunrise special?”
“No idea.” Lila shrugs. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
I nod, watching as Darlene returns with a tray stacked with two Styrofoam containers and two large cups of coffee. The smell alone makes my stomach growl.
“Here you go,” Darlene adds, setting everything on the counter. “I threw in some extra bacon. You two look like you could use it.”
I reach for my wallet. “Thank you. How much do we owe you?”
“Fifteen even.” I hand her a twenty.
“Keep the change,” I tell her, gathering our breakfast while Lila grabs the coffees.
“Much obliged,” Darlene smiles. “Y'all have a good day now.”
The morning air feels fresher as we step outside, the humidity not yet oppressive. Lila balances both coffee cups carefully as we walk toward the truck.
“I can take one of those,” I offer, already shifting the containers to make room.
“I’ve got it,” she insists, of course she does, even as her grip falters just enough to prove she doesn’t.
Max’s golden face pops into view as we approach, tail drumming against the seat like a metronome set too fast. I set the food on the hood and open the passenger door for her. He’s practically vibrating now, a living seismograph of excitement.
“I’ve got this,” Lila says again, because saying it apparently makes it true.
It does not. Her boot catches the edge of the doorframe. Center of mass shifts forward. Coffee tilts past the point of safe equilibrium. Human reflexes engage.
I move automatically.
One hand catches her waist just as her balance slips. My other somehow manages to save both coffees before catastrophe strikes. A few drops splash across my wrist.
Close call.
Lila ends up pressed against me for one suspended second, one hand braced against my chest.
“You okay?” I ask immediately.
She blinks up at me.
And suddenly neither of us seems particularly concerned about the coffee anymore.
My hand is wrapped around her waist. Warm skin beneath the open edge of the flannel. Close enough now that I can see the faint freckles across her nose and the way her pupils widen when she looks at me like this. Her mouth parts just a little.
The parking lot around us seems to go strangely quiet.
“Well,” Lila says softly after a second, voice just breathless, “that was very heroic of you.”
“You were falling.”
“Mhm.” Her fingers curl lightly into the front of my shirt instead of letting go. “And you caught me.”
Max barks once impatiently from the truck.
“You know,” Lila murmurs, fingers hooked loosely in the front of my shirt, “you’re really leaning into this whole Clark Kent role lately.”
“By catching you when you trip over your own feet?”
“By constantly saving me.” Her eyes flick slowly over me. “It’s very farm-boy-with-hidden-muscles of you.”
Standing this close to her with my hand on her waist and her body pressed against mine, my brain keeps trying to remind me exactly how little fabric is separating us right now.
How easy it would be to give in to what we both want.
How easy it would be to walk her backward into the truck or the motel room and finally stop pretending I haven’t spent the last twelve hours thinking about what it would feel like to have her wrapped around me properly.
What it would feel like to be inside of her and to hear the noise she’d make as I pushed inside of her the first time.
Lila’s eyes soften as she studies me.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you start thinking too hard.”
I glance down at her for a second before admitting softly, “I’m trying very hard not to hurt you.”
The teasing fades from her expression instantly. Her hand slides slowly from my shirt to the side of my neck, fingertips brushing lightly along my skin.
“You won’t,” she says softly.
The certainty in her voice almost undoes me.
Because that’s the problem. I want her enough that restraint feels physically painful right now. But I also want to take care of her. And somehow those two feelings exist side by side every time I touch her.
Lila searches my face for another second before smiling faintly.
“Still kind of hot, though,” she murmurs.
I laugh quietly and lean down until my forehead rests briefly against hers.
“You are unbelievably difficult for my blood pressure.”
“I was about to say the same thing about you.”
Then Max barks loudly from the truck like he’s officially reached the limit of human nonsense he’s willing to tolerate.
Lila laughs softly against my lips while I close my eyes in defeat.
And somehow, standing there in a humid parking lot with coffee going cold in my hand and a dog actively interrupting our moment, I realize I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.