“Haboobs.”
“Haboobs.” I smile. “I feel grateful, you know?”
“Is that why today was a good day?”
“Among other reasons.” I point at the large sign ahead of us. “Ta-da. We’re here.”
“Waffle House?” Quincy laughs. Twirls the damp ends of her hair around her finger before letting them go. “Are you serious?”
“Please tell me you believe in the Waffle House Index, Pres.”
“Of course I do. If it’s good enough for the head of FEMA to use in a disaster, it’s good enough for me.”
“Attagirl,” I say, throwing open my door with renewed purpose when she tucks her chin to her chest to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Looks like we’re in a level green. Check out the plate of food the server just brought out.”
“Isn’t it wild that a restaurant chain is tied to risk management?” She hops out of the car and slams the door shut. “I guess it’s good news for the community. A closed Waffle House means severe damage, which doesn’t benefit anyone.”
“Especially when I’m hungry. The only things I’ve had to eat today are a package of sunflower seeds and a protein bar on the drive down.”
“Do I look like a wet rat?” Quincy steps in front of me and grimaces. My eyes rake down her body, from the shirt hugging the swell of her breasts and the rain boots that come halfway up her calves. “I should’ve grabbed a change of clothes from my car before we left.”
“Let me see.”
I put my palms on her jaw and study face. I turn her chin to the left then the right, humming. Her lipstick is faded. Her hair is three shades darker and soaking wet, and what must be bone-deep exhaustion is obvious on her cheeks and in the little creases around her eyes.
I feel it too. In my shoulders. In the blister throbbing on my pinkie toe. It’s tucked away in my chest with the blissful murmur of contentment, and I know when I put my head on my pillow tonight, I’m going to fall asleep happy.
Attacked by rats, probably, but goddamnhappy.
Her inhale is sharp when I drag my thumb across her cheek, using the last drops of rainwater sticking to her skin to wet my fingers. She doesn’t let out the breath, holding it in while she watches me wipe away the mascara from under her right eye with a quick swipe. When she finally relaxes, her exhale is a warm puff of air.
I’ve gladly committed a lot of sins in my life, but I’d be the biggest fucking saint if it meant I could do that again.
“Nah.” I dance my fingers across her jaw. I dip them lower, ghosting down the line of her neck before pulling away completely. Today has made me reckless. Entirely out of my mind. “You look like a drowned raccoon.”
“Asshole.” Her hand lands on the sweatshirt I put on before we started our drive. She twists the material tight in her fist then gives me a shove that barely moves me an inch. “You’re buying after that comment.”
“I was hoping we’d do an awkward dance for the check. It’s fun.”
“You don’t pay on the first date?” Horror etches across her face when she realizes what she said. “I didn’t … this isn’t—forget I—”
“Do you want it to be a date, Quinny baby?” I grin. “We can make it a date. I’ll buy you some flowers. What are your favorites? Roses? Nah. Too easy. What about hibiscuses?”
“No.Nope.This is the furthest thing from a date. It’s an end-of-the-world meal. A celebration for making it through a disaster. That’s it.”
“Sounds fun.” We walk toward the restaurant, and I hold the door open for her. “Tell me, Monroe. If we were the last two people on earth, how much attention would you give me?”
“None, and you’d probably perish. You can’t survive without someone kissing your ass.”
“Then you’d be alone forever. I know you’d miss me.”
“You’d find a way to bother me from the afterlife.”
“Obviously I would. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
The hostess seats us in a booth in the back by a large window. There’s only one other person here, a man in a trucker hat sitting at the counter with empty plates spread out in front of him. I’m hoping he’s waiting out the storm. Maybe he’s looking for an excuse to hang around, because his eyes jump from the newspaper he’s holding to the chef standing over the waffle machine. There’s a hint of a smile as he watches her. The shake of his head and a hand on his jaw, holding back.
What a story that would be.
