“No problem,” I said, closing the door behind him and flipping the lock over again. “I was surprised you didn’t stop in for dinner tonight since we had the Spanish Rooster.”
“Trust me, I had planned to, but work ran late. How is my petition to get it on the menu going?”
“After tonight’s turnout, it’ll be hard for Ivy to deny that it’s the most popular new dish we’ve had in years. Probably since we debuted eggnog French toast.”
“That’s good, right?” he asked as I motioned him toward a booth. He followed me but stopped short of sliding into it. “You’re closed.”
“Sit,” I ordered, to which he nodded sheepishly and lowered himself to the seat. “You look hungry. I may have saved a Spanish Rooster for you in the cooler. You know…just in case.”
He folded his hands together in the prayer pose. “Right about now, if you can produce a plate of that, I’d marry you.”
My laughter was instantaneous as I was used to those types of proposals. I got one at least once a week working in this diner, but never from anyone who had me calculating the distance between Michigan and Vegas at lightning speed.
“No rings needed,” I assured him with a sexy wink. Well, I hoped it was sexy and didn’t come off as a deranged raccoon. “I’ll go heat it up. Hard or soft shell?”
“Honestly, whatever is the easiest. I feel bad making you stay late.”
“Don’t,” I insisted. “I have nothing pressing to do.” Unless you count packing up the final bits of my past and saying goodbye to a woman I'd loved as a mother. “Be right back.”
Before he could say anything more, I tucked tail and hurried to the kitchen. Flirting with Mr. Three-Piece Suit was a bad idea for so many reasons, and it was important to remind myself of that. Did I love Bells Pass? Yes, with every part of my soul, but right now, the likelihood of remaining a resident here was thin. That meant now was the time to start loosening ties, not tightening them.
Tears gathered behind my lids as I prepared his meal. The very last thing I wanted to do was leave Bells Pass, but the reality of tomorrow was settling in, and so was the knowledge that another Christmas at the Nightingale Diner was likely not in the cards for me.
Chapter Four
A moan left my lips before I could stop it. I was a starving man, and this beautiful woman had fed my soul with the best taco in a tri-state area. That wasn’t even a joke. “This never disappoints.”
She smiled, and it was the best thing I’d seen all day. Jaelyn was one of those women who screamed small-town girl but also carried an air of sophistication. Her long brown hair was always pulled back in a braid, but something told me letting it out of its confines to fall across her shoulders would have me wishing I could run my fingers through it. Her brown eyes, pixie-like nose, and plump lips revealed her youth, but I didn’t think she was as young as she appeared. Was she younger than my thirty-nine years? Yes, but by how much was the question? She also had hips that went on for days. They were made for a man’s hands while he was busy showing her exactly how gorgeous she was.
“Is it hot in here?” I asked, sipping the fresh Sprite she’d brought with my meal.
“I don’t think so,” she answered.
I coughed in surprise. Apparently, I’d asked that out loud. It was time to get control of my libido. I’d been with plenty of women in my time, but none of them had me this flustered.What that meant, I didn’t know, but I did know there was no way I could get involved with Jaelyn Riba.
“This is so good,” I said, hoping to distract her. “Something tells me there’s never any left at the end of the night.”
“You’d be correct,” she said with a wink of her beautiful coffee-brown eye. I wanted to whimper every time she did it, knowing she would never be mine. I was already jealous of the guy who’d win her over. “Mason made the same amount as last week to start the day and had to make more before the dinner rush. It seems someone is spreading the word about it. Do you know who that might be?”
“No,” I said, feigning innocence. “Must be Mrs. Violet.”
“Oh, sure,” she said, laughing hysterically. “That must be it.”
“And maybe I’ve told a few people at the hospital that they should stop in and try it.”
“The hospital?”
“That’s where I work,” I said, my head tipped to the side. “I thought you knew that.”
“I had no idea,” she admitted, giving me the palms out. “We never got around to talking about why you moved to town.”
“Well, we can fix that. You’re looking at the new orthopedic surgeon on staff. My last job was at the VA Clinic in Denver. I wanted to transition back to a civilian hospital setting, so I jumped at the chance to apply when the Bells Pass opportunity became available. That’s the reason I was back and forth so much in September. Interviews and then looking for a house.”
“Wow. You’re a doctor.”
The way she said it told me she was intimidated by the idea. She wasn’t the first, and she wouldn’t be the last. Honestly, that’s why I rarely tell people what I do for a living for as long as I can get away with it. For some reason, the knowledge always shifted the way people interacted with me, and I hate that. What I do for a living doesn't make me any different from anyone else.
“That must be rewarding work.”
