My eyes narrow in question at my brother. I haven’t been watching the gossip sites. I didn’t want to bring the mental load to my new surroundings. But by the look of his face, maybe I should be.
“Anything I should be worried about?”
“Apparently, you love the color blue today.” Sawyer rolls his eyes, a bad habit he has.
It’s true; my favorite color is blue, but that’s just one of the things everyone already knows about me. So I let that “news” roll off my shoulders.
As I scoop the last piece of pie into my mouth, Sawyer looks at his cell, not paying much attention. I keep silent yet grin as Noah dunks the end of Sawyer’s tie into my now-cold black coffee. I love this new nephew of mine, giving my brother a run for his money, just like I used to when I was younger.
When I give him a wink, Noah giggles, and I watch the dark liquid start to slowly creep up the soft blue fabric of Sawyer’s designer tie. That should ruffle his feathers.
“Shhh.” Noah shushes me a little too loudly and gets Sawyer’s attention.
“Noah, what in the world… I have no idea why you have such a fascination with my ties, but I’ve lost about fifty of them now,” Sawyer mumbles as he grabs a napkin and starts dabbing. While he’s busy, Noah grabs Sawyer’s cookie and finishes it, his mission now complete. Smart kid. He strategized, knew what his endgame was, and found a way to get it. Kudos to him.
“He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” A year ago, if anyone had told me that Sawyer would be here in Whispers, with a kid on his lap, not fussing about a ruined designer tie, I would’ve called them insane. Yet here we both are. Sitting at the small-town diner, eating pie and cookies.
Looking around, I spot Nikki, the young waitress I noticed the minute I walked into this diner. Who I’ve been coming back to see almost daily. She moves around this place like she’s trying not to be noticed, scurrying from one table to the next, turning them over, serving, cleaning up, and getting everyone what they need. She must feel my gaze on her, because she lifts her eyes, looking straight at me before she drops her head quickly. I never seem to be able to get her to meet my eyes for more than a few seconds.
“You’re looking at her again.” Sawyer’s eyes burn into me.
“Was not.” My answer isn’t proving a strong case as I continue to watch her. It’s hard not to. In jeans that look painted on, her ass perky to perfection. Her long, almost jet-black hair contrasting with her stunning blue eyes. But it’s more than her looks. It’s the way she holds herself, the way she smiles at everyone, the way she waits on tenterhooks for her son to walk in the door after school.
“Now’s not the time to be looking at women, Sutton.” God, if only he knew I’ve been looking at her since I arrived.
I pivot the subject. “She’s young to have a kid, don't you think?”
Sawyer’s girl Annabelle is young, had her children in her late teens, early twenties, but that’s still older than what I think Nikki is. James must be at least ten, and Nikki, I’m guessing, is in her early twenties, at most. It’s obviously possible, but hell, she must’ve had him young. Fifteen, maybe, and that doesn’t bode well. She would’ve been a child herself.
There's something about her, though. I clocked the East Coast accent almost immediately. Like a posh upper-class tone that makes me wonder where she’s from. Her nails are neatly painted soft pink. Her silky hair is well maintained. Her skin is flawless—not a freckle, not a scar, not a blemish to be seen. She wouldn’t be out of place in Manhattan. Yet she’s here, serving coffees in small-town Whispers. It has me intrigued.
“Agree. But it isn’t our business.” Sawyer looks at me closely, but I pay him little attention.
I watch her finish her shift, my jaw tight as her son James packs up his books. He’s here every day too, doing his homework at the end of the counter. There’s a lot of love between them. Nikki tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she moves them both toward the back exit. Just before she walks out, her head turns, her eyes meeting mine again, and for an instant, we get locked in a stare, before she slides through the door, and then they’re gone.
"Where do they walk to?" I ask out loud. I never see her drive; they’re always walking everywhere.
Rochelle, wiping down the counter nearby, barely glances up to answer me. "Home."
"How far?"
She swipes at the counter harder than necessary. "A long way."
I frown at that. "Her car broken?"
Rochelle stops wiping, looking at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. "She doesn’t have one."
I swivel in my seat as my jaw nearly drops. "You’re joking."
"Not everyone can afford these things, Sutton. And while I pay my staff fairly, she isn’t a billionaire like you."
Her tone is sharp, but there’s something else beneath it, something pointed.
“That girl has a history, one she hasn’t shared with me. But I can tell she’s got secrets."
I don’t respond, because I already knew that.
Sawyer gives me another look of his that tells me to quit it. “Don’t go looking. Nikki isn’t someone you have fun with and then forget once you’re gone."
