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The country diner is alive this morning. The bakery counter is overrun with customers as they try to grab the latest of the fresh baked goods lining the shelves of the case. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, and the gust of chilled air swirls in every time someone enters. I love this time of year. The colder it gets the better, and the fact that I know it won’t last forever is the topping on the cake.

The chiming of the bell draws my eyes to the restaurant door. Heath walks through, wearing a tan coat that falls mid-thigh. Under his jacket, he’s wearing a plaid flannel and dark denim work jeans. His boots are clean, telling me that he’s been in meetings rather than in the dust of job sites. Before I can get my feet under me enough to stand up, he leans over wrapping one hand around the nape of my neck, pulling me into a chaste kiss, and then taking a seat. I feel the heat creep up my neck, burning my cheeks.

“What?” he asks before lifting his hand, signaling for a waitress.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he asks as he removes his coat, turning to lay it over the back of the chair. “Thanks for inviting me. I’ve been meaning to call, but we’ve started two new design builds this past week, so we’ve been swamped.” When the waitress comes over, she gives Heath a stunning smile.

“Well, I’m glad that you could make it,” I say, ignoring the woman standing at our table. “I know you’ve been setting up all the meetings between us so I thought it was my turn.”

He smiles one of his genuine smiles. “Well, I appreciate it.”

“Your usual, Mr. James?” she asks him before acknowledging me.

He gives her a passive smile. “Yes, that’ll be great, and whatever Mrs. James wants as well.”

She startles a bit like she didn’t know I was sitting right here. “Yes, of course.” She turns her body towards me, lifting her pad and pen reading her for my order. “Ma’am?”

I glance down at the menu. “I’ll take the Santa Fe Chicken sandwich and coffee, please.” Handing her the menu I give her a tight smile. As soon as she walks away, I ask, “Your usual? How do you have a usual here?”

He tilts his head, squinting his eyes slightly. “I’ve been coming in here a lot lately. The foods good and they’re quick with the service. That’s why I suggested it when you called.”

“What’s your usual?”

“Veggie frittata with egg whites.”

I’m shocked, “Well look at you being all heathy.” He gives me a smile in return.

“Here’s your herbal tea, sir, and your water, ma’am,” the waitress interrupts.

“Thank you,” Heath tells her before bringing the cup to his lips. Taking a sip, he hums in satisfaction. “It’s the perfect temp, thank you.”

“Of course, your food will be right up.”

“So…” He scoots his chair in closer to the table and leans his arms on the top, his eyes scan my face, brows drawn together. His expression softens before he speaks. “How are the shins? Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, they’re a lot better. Thank you. My neighbor and I picked up running again a couple of days ago so I’m good to go.”

“Great, I remember having them in school–”

“I remember,” I cut him off. “I wanted to ask the janitor to pick you up from third period and drive you to your next class because it was clear across campus.”

He holds my gaze with the tiniest of smiles on his face. “Yes, I recall how adamant you were about that. My friends would have revoked my man card, even before I officially had possession of it if I went along with your scheme.”

“I was just trying to take care of you.”

“Yes, you’ve always tried to take care of me.” He gives me another small smile. It’s the same one he used to give me when I’d catch him staring at me when we were younger.

The waitress arrives with our food, causing Heath to drop that smile in time to give her a curt nod as she sets our food on the table. “I hope everything’s to your liking, Mr. James.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’m sure everything’s great, thank you.”

“I think she’s got a thing for you,” I tell him.

“I think she’s got a thing for a good tip.” He digs into his eggs, popping a bite into his mouth.

“What did youthink of your food?” Heath asks me before he takes another sip of his tea. This is his third cup.