Sutton looks at me with a gaze that’s a mix of surprise, admiration, and confusion. “There’s no way normal people just know that.”
I feel a little caught out. Clearly, I need to watch what I say a little more. I’m becoming too comfortable around him. This is why I always keep my distance from people. Swallowing roughly, I shrug, acting like it’s no big deal before I go to pour him another cup, but he stops me.
“I’ve got so much caffeine in my veins I'm vibrating.” His grin is wide, and I snort a laugh. My hand comes to my face immediately, my cheeks heating. I hate laughing. I’m one of those snorters. I’ve been like this my entire life. At school, I was picked on, people called me “porky” every time I laughed. But my mom loved it. She used to tell me that when I laughed, the whole world lit up. The two of us were always in fits of laughter together. We had a good time. I haven’t laughed much since she died.
“Was that a snort?” His expression brightens, like I just made his day.
“No.” I brush him off, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Oh no, I think that was a laugh-snort.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “A laugh-snort?”
“Yeah, they’re the best kind of laughs.” His eyes dance in delight as he watches me. Taking a deep breath, the humor settles, my chest warming.
Getting the attention off me, I ask, “If there’s too much coffee in your veins, why are you here all day, then?” I hold up the hot pot of coffee, intrigued why he’s still here.
“I’ll leave when you leave.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“I’m making sure you finish and get home okay.”
I start to shake my head as my heartbeat quickens. I’m apprehensive, yet butterflies dance in my stomach, leaving my emotions all over the place.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m here!” James pushes through the door, beelining right for me. “How’s your face?” he asks as he basically slams into me and hugs me tightly.
“I’m fine. All good.” I give him a wide smile of reassurance. Looking at Sutton, I see he’s smiling at James, and I decide to introduce them formally, Sutton aware of who he is anyway.
“James, this is Sutton.”
“Hey, buddy.” Sutton offers his fist, and James taps it with his own in a boy code I don’t understand. The chime of the door sounds again, and I see a few others filing in after school, signaling the afternoon rush.
“Hang on,” I tell James, moving around him and greeting the new customers.
As people order, more walk in. It’s getting busy, and I run around, filling cups, taking orders, delivering food and back again. Rochelle and I move in tandem, ensuring everyone has what they need, and it isn’t until it starts to slow that I take a breath. The clock says I worked a half hour of overtime, and I know by the time we walk home, James is going to be starving. I thank God for the last pieces of leftover lasagna from Rochelle that’s still in my fridge.
My eyes flick around the diner for him. He isn’t in his usual spot at the end of the counter and as I look around, I spot him sitting at the booth in the back. James is sitting opposite Sutton, the two of them with their heads together, and my heart almost stops. I pause what I’m doing and watch them. James looks so happy, and Sutton’s grin is wide. He looks good with a smile. I bite the inside of my cheeks, knowing that Sutton Silvers looks good in anything.
“Now look who’s staring,” Rochelle teases as she approaches my side, taking in the two of them.
“I’m just making sure James is behaving. Not annoying the customers.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t believe a word of that.
“James is a good kid; he’s always welcome here anytime, and he doesn’t bother anyone. But I don’t think you’re just looking at James…”
I feel my cheeks heat and lift my hand to touch them before I wince, the black eye and bruised cheek I’d forgotten about still sore at the touch.
“Did you put ice on that?” she asks with a pinched brow.
I told Rochelle I fell. Unlike Sutton, she didn’t dispute my claim.
“Yes. Of course.”
Her lips thin. Damn her and her all-knowing maternal instinct. Maybe the fact that she’s married to the local sheriff helps her spot a liar, but I swear she knows the minute I tell a small fib.
