Page 19 of Lucky Mother Pucker

Lucy drops off the check when I finish.

“Here, I don’t need change,” I say when I set a stack of cash on the table.

Her sapphire eyes widen. “That’s way too much.”

“It’s not. The rest is your tip.”

Her mouth parts open, and she stares at me.

I slide out of the booth and turn to her. “Thanks, Lucy. Sorry again for how I messed things up at your old job,” I say quietly as I walk off.

“Wait.”

I turn around.

“What’s your name?” she asks, her tone softer now. My chest squeezes. I like it when her voice sounds like that.

“Leo.”

Her expression softens. “Thanks, Leo.”

I nod and walk out of the diner.

Chapter 8

Lucy

Isit in the front seat of my car, which is parked in a busy grocery store parking lot.

I recount the stack of cash in my hands. One thousand dollars.

For the past week, I’ve been working at the diner during the day and the strip club at night. I’ve managed to save up half of what I need to get a decent apartment: first month’s rent and a deposit.

I grab a few twenties and put them in my wallet. I open up the glove compartment and tuck the rest of the cash in the vinyl cover of the owner’s manual. I can’t open up a bank account yet because I don’t have an address, so hiding my cash in my car is the next best thing I can think of.

I yawn, my eyelids feeling heavy. I glance outside, taking in the darkening sky. It’s late afternoon, but it’s getting darker and darker each day that we get closer to winter.

I reach up and stretch out, my body feeling stiff and achy. I’d give anything for a bed right now.

I check the time. Two hours until I have to head to the strip club for my shift. I can get a quick nap in here in this parking lot since it’s the busy part of the day and the security vehicle isn’t patrolling yet.

I recline my seat back slightly and grab the blanket from the passenger seat, which is next to the blue waitress uniform I wear at the diner. I instantly think of Leo.

I still can’t believe he left me such a huge tip. A hundred bucks.

That’s more than any tip I’ve gotten at the diner. It’s more than most of the tips I get at the strip club too.

There’s a weird dip in my tummy when I think about him. The regretful look on his face when I thanked him. Like he was truly sorry for what he did.

My tired mind wanders. I think about how big and tall he is. I bet he’s ripped from playing hockey. He’s really handsome too.

A second later, I shut down that thought. What is wrong with me? Am I seriously sitting here, daydreaming about this guy I barely know? The guy who got me fired?

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I’m sleep-deprived. That must be it.

I’m still curious about him though. How does he have so much money? He’s a college student. I thought most college students were broke.

I pull up my phone and look up his name online. I don’t know his last name, but when I type “Leo” and “Hollis U men’s hockey,” he pops right up.