Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Fight - To engage in a quarrel; argue. To attempt to harm or gain power over an adversary by blows or with weapons.”
Dex
I got a spot in front of the diner, probably because it was still early.
I sat there with the engine running for a few minutes and looked through the windows and into the restaurant.
Piper came out from around the counter, holding a plate of food and a pot of coffee.
She went across the room to deliver the meal.
She moved a little slower than normal and I figured it was because it was early and she was probably still half asleep.
I realized I was smiling.
I stopped.
Then I climbed out of the car and headed for the diner. The bell on the door was offensively loud when I pushed open the door, and the few customers looked up from their food. I went to the bar and sat on a stool, waiting for Piper to notice me.
She did and she smiled.
I cleared my throat and she came over and stood behind the counter in front of me.
“Here,” I said and shoved my travel mug at her.
“We have coffee here,” she said, amused.
“Yeah, it tastes like mud. This’ll actually wake you up.”
Her lips curved and she took the mug and lifted it to her lips. Her eyes sparkled over the rim as she tipped it against her mouth. Just moments before my lips were in the same spot. The thought made me feel a little… well, warm.
She made a face and handed it back to me. “Do you want a little coffee with that creamer?” she said, reaching for the pot.
“Don’t mess with my coffee, woman,” I warned.
She laughed. “So what are you doing here so early?”
“Breakfast,” I lied. “Hobbs has a few days off.”
“Does that mean you actually made that coffee?”
“He set the timer,” I lied again.
“Figures.” She rolled her eyes. “So what are you having?”
“Pancakes.”
She walked toward the line and spoke to the cook. He made some remark and she rolled her eyes and said something rapidly. He made a motion at her with a large spatula.
“Just make the order,” she spat.
“Write it down and hang it up like you’re supposed to,” he shot back.
She shook her head and pulled out a little notepad from the pocket of her apron and began to write.
“Pancakes,” she said and ripped off the paper and hung it on a little carousel by the cook’s head. “Now you make it.”
He made a reply, but it was too low to hear. Piper made a face and grabbed the coffee and went around filling cups. On her way back by I grabbed her wrist and spun her around. Gently, she pulled away and sat the almost empty pot on the counter.
“Is that guy bothering you?” I asked. I hadn’t liked the way he acted toward her.
“No. He’s new and he doesn’t like me is all. It’s fine. I deal with it.” She picked up the pot again, then smiled. “I can’t believe I haven’t thanked you yet.”
“Thanked me?”
“I got the flowers. They’re beautiful.”
Was she blushing? “I’m glad you liked them.”
“I really do,” she began, and it looked like she might say something more when the cook interrupted.
“Order up!” he yelled.
She took a breath and moved off to put the coffee pot back and deliver the plates of food to a nearby table.
A few minutes later she handed me a plate of pancakes and a glass container of syrup.
As I poured the dark liquid over the stack, I thought about her tired eyes this morning.
Maybe the reason she looked a little run down wasn’t from lack of sleep or an early morning.
Maybe she was still feeling sick from the reaction she had before.
I felt a little stab of something in the center of my chest, but I ignored it. I didn’t have time for feelings. I had to complete this job. My life depended on it.
I took a bite of the pancakes, not really tasting them, as my mind worked to formulate a plan. I needed to get out of town. I needed away from Grim, from Charming… I needed a vacation.
Bingo.
I glanced up to see Piper hanging an order slip for the line cook. I watched as he knocked into her with his side and she fell sideways, nearly losing her balance.
She put her hands on her hips and made a face as the guy yelled, “Watch where you’re going!”
My fork clattered against the glass of my plate as I shoved off the stool and went around to the employee side of the counter.
“Employees only, sir,” the other waitress on staff told me as I shouldered my way past her.
Piper looked up from behind the register. She looked worse than earlier. Something inside me snapped and I shoved the line cook, causing him to pitch forward. He caught himself before landing face first onto the piping hot griddle.
“Hey!” he shouted and turned. “What the hell’s your problem?”
“I don’t like the way you treat the waitresses.”
“It’s none of your damn business!” he said, waiving an oversized spatula around.
“Apologize,” I demanded.
“Dex, just let it go,” Piper said from behind the angry cook.
“Yeah, Dex, let it go,” the cook mocked.
My fist shot out and nailed him right across the jaw.
He flew backwards, knocking over a container full of utensils and they all clattered to the floor.
He gave a grunt and came at me, and instead of sidestepping like I should have, I stayed still and took his fist right to the left side of my face.
A guy had to do what a guy had to do.
I felt my cheek split open and my skin began to sting. Shouting erupted around me. Piper ran forward, trying to make it to my side, but the cook held out his arm, clothes-lining her behind him. She slipped on something and fell backward onto her butt.
My hand shot out and grabbed the cook’s wrist and forced his hand down onto the griddle.
He yelled in pain when his skin sizzled.
I didn’t hold on to him long—I wasn’t trying to melt all his skin away, just some of it—and I let go to help Piper when I felt something heavy hit me over the head.
I fell to the floor, and just before passing out, I noted that Piper was unharmed.