3. Dannica
DANNICA
WAITRESS LOSES ALL PROFESSIONALISM OVER CHEESEBURGER AND MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
“Now, Mike, you know I wouldn’t be calling if I got the whole order.
” I keep my tone polite, even though he’s already talking over me on the other end.
Like I’m the problem here. Like I misplaced a whole damn case of oil.
“I’m telling you, it’s an entire case. Count your stock if you don’t believe me. You should have extra.”
I fan myself with the delivery note, but it’s pointless.
All it’s doing is moving heat from one place to another.
The fryer’s been going since dawn, oil popping, heat feeling dense in the small space, and my spine is officially in talks about early retirement.
My feet ache like they belong to someone else, and honestly, I’d give them back if I could.
I envision sitting down and detaching them, pretending they were never part of the deal.
Maybe even swapping them for bigger boobs.
“Do you have any idea how much oil I carry?” he snaps. “It would take me all day.”
I tip my head back for a second, staring at the ceiling like it might offer divine intervention. Nothing in Boudica Springs can ever be simple. That would be too easy. And apparently we don’t do easy here.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have it.”
A soft gasp that doesn’t belong in a kitchen comes from the pass, and it puts me on high alert immediately.
I glance up.
Mary has turned the exact shade of the tomato soup waiting to go to table six.
“What’s with her?” Llewellen, our fry cook, asks as he grabs an order ticket.
“Oh, that?” Imani’s voice cuts in from the booth nearest the pass.
Imani Johnson is the owner of the only salon in town worth trusting with your edges.
Her always immaculate braids are pulled into a long, sleek ponytail that falls over one shoulder.
She’s wrestling an open packet of sugar from five-year-old Naveah.
Royal Jr., Naveah’s twin brother, just slips his sister another.
Without skipping a beat, she intercepts the contraband exchange and gives her twins a scathing look that has them settling down.
I glance over to where she’s staring pointedly.
“That,” she continues, nodding toward Mary, “is the face of a woman who just saw a problem she can’t handle emotionally.”
I find myself walking out of the kitchen.
Oh.
Oh my.
There’s a ridiculously gorgeous man standing at the entryway.
It’s like sin just clocked in for the lunch shift.
Dark hair, a slight stoop that should read awkward but just makes him look more intentional.
It makes me wonder if he’s choosing exactly how much of himself to show.
He’s calm. Observant. The kind of man who doesn’t just look, but takes things in.
Perhaps even cataloging the diner for later.
My stomach does something completely unnecessary, dipping and twisting in a really delicious way, and my gaze betrays me with a slow, scandalous sweep like I’m starring in a low-budget rom-com no one asked for.
Black boots. Blue jeans.
Pause.
Longer pause.
Why am I staring like professionalism is optional?
White T-shirt under a leather jacket, and I swear I can see the outline of a six-pack beneath it.
Have I developed X-ray vision? Love that for me.
Maybe next I can develop the ability to act like a functioning adult and not mentally undress a customer mid-shift.
It does explain Mary’s new skin tone, though.
Thank tuna he doesn’t look up and catch me committing full-scale objectification in my place of employment.
WAITRESS PUBLICLY PERVES ON OUT-OF-TOWNER. COMMUNITY IN SHOCK.
“Hello? Are you even listening?” Mike snaps.
I jerk back into myself, fingers tightening around the phone. Right. Oil. Reality.
I don’t take my eyes off the newcomer as he takes a seat. “Mike, the bottom line is that I’m a case short. Let me know when you’ve reconciled your stock.”
I end the call but I’m still staring. Subtle, Dannica. Very subtle.
“I see you’re following suit,” Imani mutters, having abandoned her booth in favor of what I can only assume is ogling with us.
“I can most definitely handle these emotions,” I say. “Are you just here to stir the pot?”
“You know it. I have clients to keep informed this afternoon. Besides, I need something to keep me busy since Royal was deployed and left me outnumbered.” She gazes lovingly at her twins, who are now fighting over a ketchup bottle, and rubs her very pregnant belly.
“Why the hell did he sit in my section?” Mary hisses, already backing away.
“Probably because everyone’s staring instead of seating him,” Llewellen mutters, not even looking up. “You’d swear you’ve never seen a new customer before.”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck.
“Maybe because we don’t usually get customers who look like that,” I add under my breath, like that somehow makes this better.
Which it doesn’t.
“Mary,” Llewellen calls, finally glancing up, “you better go ask him what he wants before he leaves.”
Mary spins toward me so fast, I barely have time to brace before she grabs my hands, squeezing hard enough to cut off circulation.
“You have to take my table.”
I’m not even surprised at Mary’s reaction. She’s so shy, she once hid in the walk-in fridge to avoid singing happy birthday to a customer. I genuinely thought we were going to lose her to hypothermia.
I glance back at the newcomer.
Still, you’d think she’d power through it for… that.
“Yeah?” I arch a brow, folding my arms. “And when I asked you to take mine when Beverly was here?”
She winces, shifting her weight. “That was different.”
I hold her gaze. “How?”
“Because Grandma had my hands tied. And quite frankly, I’d rather get a lap dance from the entire cast of Magic Mike in front of my dad than have Grandma come after me.”
I stare at her for a second. Well now, that puts things in perspective.
“I’m begging,” she whispers. “Have a heart.”
“Yeah, have a heart,” Imani chimes in.
I point my order pad at Imani. “You stay out of this.”
She grins and raises her hands in surrender. “Fine, I need to control the troops anyway.”
She waddles back to her booth, and I turn back to Mary. “You know you’re giving up serving what is certainly the hottest guy to enter our diner since it was built, right?”
“He’s not even that attractive,” she mutters. “Besides, you know how I get with out-of-towners.”
“He’s not attractive? Are you blind?” I fire back just a little too loud.
A couple of heads turn, and Mary slaps a hand over my mouth. Thankfully, the customer doesn’t seem to hear.
I stick my tongue out. She jerks back, wiping her hand on her apron. “Gross, Dannica! What are you, five?”
“Coming from the one who won’t serve the cute boy.”
“He isn’t cute.”
“Honey, I’m straight and even I can tell he’s cute,” Llewellen says dryly.
“See?” I shrug. Case closed.
Quadri sidles up like she’s been summoned by chaos. “If neither of you serve that hunk of meat, I will.”
I snap my head toward her. Over my dead body.
I don’t even know why I’m arguing this. Of course I’m going to serve him. Like that was ever in question.
“Fine. But you owe me Sundays ’til the end of the month,” I say to Mary. I can’t let her off that easily.
“Done.” She doesn’t even hesitate.
Interesting. Which means she’ll be dealing with Beverly and her eternal grudge for the next few weeks. I should feel bad, but I don’t. Mary’s twenty-two and still blushes when men make eye contact. I don’t. At least… I didn’t. That feels questionable now.
“Poor guy,” Shelly calls from the fry station. “You’re going to make him trip over his tongue and break his heart. I can see the headline now.” She spreads her hands wide. “Perpetual singleton wreaks havoc on male population.”
She cocks a hand on her hip. “How’d I do?”
Heat creeps up my neck.
“Jesus, Shel, I’m not that bad.” It’s not my fault this town recycles the same five personalities on a loop.
“When was the last time you went on a date?” Quadri pipes up.
What’s with the ganging up today? Jeez. I open my mouth, then snap it shut. “That’s not the point.”
“It is absolutely the point.”
“You are damn infuriating, Four.”
“You don’t blink at men,” she says. “But this one? You look like you could sprint over to his table faster than you ran in these doors when you were late.”
My pulse betrays me with an ill-timed thud. I grab my pen before I can dignify that with an answer—or confirm it.
I blow out a breath. “All right, Dannica, to table Tall, Dark and Combustibly Handsome.”
He’s focused on the menu like it’s a final exam, completely oblivious to the fact that he just detonated my entire personality.
Internally, I’m in absolute turmoil. Externally? I slide into place with an easy, practiced smile.
“Afternoon. What’ll it be? Coffee first? Or are we being bold today?”
He looks up and just… stops. His hazel eyes hold mine, like I’ve said something he didn’t see coming. Then he blinks, like he’s been flash-banged.
I let the moment stretch just a second longer than necessary before tilting my head.
“No rush,” I add smoothly. “The burgers aren’t going anywhere. They’ve been here longer than me.”
“Oh… uh… coffee will be fine. And…” He glances at the menu again. “A cheeseburger.”
His voice is… damn… it’s deep, rich and smooth like warm bourbon. It does something to me. Something I’m not unpacking right now. My stomach tightens, low and sudden and wildly inappropriate for late afternoon. And my brain? It has fully checked out.
“Coffee and a burger?” he repeats.
Goddamn it, Dannica, wake up.
“Yes. Sure. Coffee. And… a cheeseburger. We do that here.” I pause. “Obviously.”
Heat flashes up my neck to my cheeks. Oh my god. Why am I like this? I need to stop talking.
He gives me the faintest hint of a smile. I turn too fast and nearly clip a chair. At the pass, it takes me an unnecessary amount of time to slide the order into the slot.
Pull yourself together.