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Distracted by Travis’s impressive scowl, I mutter a quick, “Thanks.”

Once T. J. disappears into the kitchen, I slide out of the booth and switch sides, putting my back to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody.

Within a few minutes, T. J. drops off my drink and then sticks around to ask me where I’m from before he’s dragged away again. A little later, he brings my food, hovering as I take my first bite.

“Everything okay?” He flashes a wide smile.

I chew and swallow as quickly as I can without choking. “It’s good, thanks.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need. Anything at all.” With another wink, he slowly backs toward the kitchen. His smile slips as his gaze lands on something over my shoulder, and he stalks off.

Behind me, Travis’s scoff morphs into an impressive imitation of a cat hacking up a fur ball. Asshole.

Ignoring the beautiful troublemaker, I devour my burger and down two sodas while I wait for the morning manager to arrive. Almost an hour later, my bladder reaches the tipping point. Every pair of headlights draws my attention to the door, every passing minute urging me to take my chances with whatever horrors await in the neglected ladies’ room.

While I weigh my options, T. J. slides onto the bench across from me and snatches a cold fry from my plate. He props himself on his elbows and leans forward until he’s practically on my side of the booth. “I get off in fifteen minutes if you need a ride somewhere.”

“Really? You’d do that?” I rest my elbows on the table, meeting him in the middle. The possibility of a clean bathroom, and maybe even a shower, silences the voice of reason in my head. And with a lethal combination of sleep deprivation and desperation, the words come out in a stream of verbal diarrhea. “That would be awesome. I’m basically stuck here until Mack’s opens—that’s where they’re supposedly towing my car. Hopefully, they can get the armadillo out of the radiator. And I should probably track down Ernie’s dairy truck to get my backpack and phone charger. If they can’t fix my car by tonight, I guess I’ll need to find a motel, and I don’t have a clue where to look.”

“Whoa!” T. J. laughs. “Slow down, I didn’t catch half of that. Lemme go finish up and clock out, then we can figure out what to do next.”

“Thank you so much!” I beam at him. “You have no idea how grateful I am. Really and truly.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m here to serve.” He winks, then dips his head, going in for a . . . a kiss?

The hell? I jerk back before his lips land.

He straightens in the seat, shock registering in his muddy eyes, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. “Sit tight. Be back in a few.”

T. J. saunters to the kitchen while I reassess our tentative agreement.

What have I done? Accepting offers from two strangers in the same night? Jeanie will have my head . . . if I don’t lose it first.

“You shouldn’t trust that guy.”

The seductive murmur startles me, and I whip my head around to find Clark Freaking Kent casually leaning against my bench with his tattered book tucked under his arm. Travis may be trouble, but up close, the guy is seriously hot—all tall and sinewy in a wrinkled short-sleeved button-down and dark jeans. He could use a haircut, and probably an attitude adjustment, but if I didn’t know he was bad news, he would be exactly my type.

“He’s only trying to get laid.” He stares down at me from behind those black frames.

I raise a single eyebrow, trying and failing to avert my attention from his sinful body. He could easily be a model for designer eyewear. Or a superhero disguised as . . . a complete douche canoe?

“Believe me, don’t believe me. Either way, I’ve done my good deed for the day. The rest is on you.” He glides onto the bench across from me uninvited and flips to a page in the middle of his book.

The balls on this guy!

Stunned by his arrogance, I openly gape at him. “Who do you think you are?”

Clark-slash-Travis stares at the open book in front of him. “The guy who’s watched redneck-Romeo make a play for every woman under the age of forty who’s walked through that door since he started his shift almost five hours ago. He’s remarkably persistent considering how many times he’s been shot down.”

An undignified snort sneaks out of me as I peek toward the kitchen.

“You’re the best looking of the bunch, if it makes you feel any better. But definitely not the first.”

“You’ve been sitting here since before midnight?”

Travis lifts his gaze to mine. Behind the black-rimmed glasses, he has one blue eye and one that’s more brown than blue. As if someone got bored while coloring his iris and quit in the middle.

For the second time in the span of an hour, words tumble past my lips without permission. “Your eyes.”