9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Tallahassee
Tonight, when I start my shift, I notice a handsome silver fox sitting alone at one of my tables.
Nothing unusual about that, but something about him captures my attention.
He appears to be in his early sixties, with thick dark hair graying at the temples, looking dapper in his blue button-down shirt and slacks.
He has a quick smile and eyes that remind me of a certain sailor.
One I haven’t seen in the past four days.
Not that I’m counting.
“Hi, what can I get you?” I ask when I approach his table.
“I don’t know if I should order something to drink or not. I’m waiting for my son.” He lowers his voice like he’s imparting a secret. “He’s a SEAL, so sometimes he has to cancel at the last minute. I hope he’s just running late.” He pulls out his phone to check it, then slips it back in his pocket.
SEALs are common here. This is Coronado, after all, home of the training center for Navy SEALs and Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewmen. But I’m not sure he should go around announcing that information to strangers.
“Wow. You must be so proud of him.”
He gives me a big smile. “I am.” His tone changes, and he frowns. “I’m sure he’ll order a beer. That’s most likely the thing to order in a place like this.”
As a waitress, I’ve learned to read people when it comes to food and drinks.
He doesn’t seem like a beer guy at all, and I can tell that isn’t what he wants.
“If beer doesn’t suit you, I’d be more than happy to get you a whiskey.
If that’s not appealing, we have some great wines,” I tell him with a conspiratorial grin.
“We have an excellent cabernet or merlot if you like red.”
“That sounds lovely. I’ll have the merlot.”
I head to the bar to retrieve it and pick up two pitchers for other tables. I deliver the pitchers and the silver fox’s wine, move to another table to take their order, then return to the bar for a new drink order.
That’s when I see Darren come up the stairs. It’s as if I’m tuned to him.
I smile at the sight of him, surprised when he slides into the booth across from the silver fox. I should have seen it, based on their similarities and what the man told me, the silver fox must be his father.
I’m behind the bar when Darren begins to scan the room. I get the impression he’s searching for me, but that’s probably a fanciful notion and more about how I can’t stop watching him than him looking for me.
He catches my eye from across the dining room and smiles at me. I smile back, lifting my hand in a wave. I hold up a beer glass, silently asking if he wants one. He shakes his head and lifts his dad’s wine glass.
I smile and give him a chin lift in understanding.
After delivering meals to a couple of tables, I head back to the bar to collect another order and get Darren his wine.
“Hi,” I say, smiling as I set his wine in front of him.
“Hi. Thank you. How’re you tonight?”
I nod. “I’m good, thanks. You?”
“I’m good as well.”
When he reaches for me, grazing my fingertips, I don’t flinch or pull away. The contact is fleeting, but it feels more sensual than if he had taken my hand. I can’t deny it, I like the feel of his touch. I want it, crave it.
Maybe too much.
You need to stop. You cannot get involved with this man.
“Dad, this is Tallahassee. Tallahassee, this is my dad, Ralph.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you, Mr. Stevens.”
Ralph flashes a big smile, looking from me to Darren. “This is Tallahassee?” Then his attention comes back to me. “It’s lovely to meet you. Darren has told me a lot about you. And please, call me Ralph.”
He talked about me?
My eyes whip to Darren. He doesn’t appear embarrassed in the least as he sips his wine, his eyes holding mine over the rim of his glass.
Glancing down at his menu, Ralph seems oblivious to the sexual tension flowing between his son and me. “The steak sounds so good. It’s been forever since I’ve had a good steak,” he sighs. “But I probably shouldn’t.”
“Can I make a suggestion?” I ask with a grin, slipping into my best waitress voice.
“Please.”
“You could go with the filet. It’s smaller, but still a decent portion.
It comes with a salad of mixed baby greens and your choice of potato––baked, mashed, or fries.
Today’s vegetable is grilled asparagus with a honey mustard vinaigrette and shaved parmesan.
So if you think about it, with the salad, potato, and asparagus, it’s more vegetables than steak.
Besides, life is short, sometimes you have to indulge, Ralph. ”
Both men are smiling by the time I finish. Ralph’s eyes dart to Darren. “She does make a good point. You’ve talked me into it, Tallahassee. I’ll have the filet with baked.”
Darren closes his menu and smiles up at me, and for several long seconds, I’m drowning in his hazel eyes. I’ve worked so hard to purge my feelings that I don’t know how to restart them. I’m not even sure it’s possible anymore. But if it were, I think I might do it for this man.
That’s a dangerous thought.
“What do you suggest for me, oh wise one?”
I chuckle. I’ve served him and his friends enough to know he’s a hard-core carnivore.
“Well, you’re bigger and, uh, you work out quite a bit.
” As soon as the words leave my mouth, my eyes betray me, automatically dropping to his wide chest. Realizing what I’ve done, I shake my head and gather my wits about me.
He’s smiling when my eyes meet his again. It’s obvious he caught me ogling him. I feel my cheeks get warm and clear my throat. “Um, so I’d suggest either the New York or the porterhouse.”
He goes with the New York and a loaded baked potato.
“Excellent choice.” Grinning, I collect their menus. “I don’t want to cause trouble, but if you’d like a dessert option, we have a chocolate fudge cake that’s to die for, but it does take a little longer to prepare.”
Darren grins up at me. “What kind of pie do you have tonight?”
It surprises me how excited he sounds. Another interesting tidbit I’ve learned about him…the man likes his pie.
I smile. “We have apple and pecan. And tonight, we’ve also got a yummy cherry cobbler, which isn’t pie but is pie adjacent.”
You’re babbling. Stop talking, Tallahassee.
Ralph passes on dessert, and Darren orders the cobbler.
I wink conspiratorially at his dad. “Should I make him wait for dessert or bring it with his dinner?”
Ralph seems to be enjoying himself and chuckles. “Let’s make him wait. We’ll see how he does with his supper before we let him have his dessert.”
“Excellent. I’ll be right back with your salads.”
I serve appetizers and dinners, fill water glasses and coffee cups, deliver drinks, shots, and enough beer to fill a tanker truck.
But through it all, my eyes continue drifting back to Darren and his dad. I watch them talk, noticing how well they seem to get along. Obviously, I’m not very stealthy, because it seems like Darren catches me whenever I look his way.
When I bring out their coffee and Darren’s cobbler, one of them had stacked their empty plates at the edge of the table.
“That was a fantastic meal. Thank you, Tallahassee.”
I rest my hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Ralph. Next time we’ll talk about our mango salsa salmon.”
Ralph smiles up at me. “You’re going to make me fat.” His next question shocks me. “Tallahassee, would you like to join Darren and me for Sunday dinner?”
Not only should I say no, I should say hell no. But for reasons I don’t understand what comes out of my mouth is, “I’d love to, but I have dinner at my folks’ house on Sundays. Why don’t you two come with me instead?”
From his expression, Darren seems almost as surprised by the invitation as I am.
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” Ralph says.
I shake my head. “You wouldn’t be. My parents are the-more-the-merrier type. Honestly, they’d love it.”
What in the actual hell?
I don’t understand why these words are tumbling from my mouth or why I can’t seem to stop them.
Ralph looks at Darren, who’s still smiling. He gives his dad an enthusiastic nod. “Sounds like a date.”
Ralph turns back to me. “If you’re sure it would be alright?”
“I’m positive.”
Darren pulls out his phone and hands it to me. “Put in your digits.”
My hand trembles as I take the phone and enter my number.
There’s no turning back now.
Darren grins when I return his phone and fires off a quick text. “Now you have my number too. What time should we pick you up?”
I collect their stacked plates, needing something to do with my hands. “Four?”
His smile is so bright it nearly blinds me. “Text me your address, and we’ll see you at four.”
Oh crap. What have I done?
For the rest of the night, that question races through my head on a continuous loop.