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“Can I get you kids something to drink?”
I smile, because she looks to be about a hundred, and we probably do seem like kids to her.
“Diet Coke, please.”
“Regular Coke for me,” Reece says, flashing her a friendly smile. “I like the real stuff.”
I blink a little. When was the last time I saw him smile like that? Wide and unabashed, maybe a little flirtatious?
I mean, he flirts with me, but there’s always an edge, as though we’re engaged in a battle of wills at the same time.
The waitress slaps his arm. “Save it for the pretty girl. I’m old enough to know better about boys that look like you.”
It’s my turn to smile up at her. “Well, Darla,” I say, after a quick glance at her name tag. “Wish I’d met you a few years ago, so I’d have known that this one came with a warning label.”
“Don’t mind her,” Reece says in a bored tone, turning his attention back to the menu. “Just make sure to double her order. Half for her, half for the baggage she insists on carrying around.”
Darla moves away with a clicking of her tongue, and I kick Reece under the table. “Really?”
He lowers the menu only slightly to meet my eyes. “Any chance we can have this meal in silence?”
In response I reach out, shove the menu onto the table so I can see his face, ignoring his sigh.
“Yes, Lucy?” he asks with exaggerated patience.
I fold my hands. “Thank you for driving today.”
Reece’s head tilts back, looking at the peeling ceiling in exasperation. “This, after days of you bitching about me not letting you drive?”
I look out the window at the angry rain. “I didn’t want to drive in that.”
His gaze follows mine. “It is crazy. Since your mom’s taking up meteorology while we’re on this road trip, did she tell you when it was supposed to let up?”
“Nope, but she did order me to download no fewer than five weather apps on my phone,” I say, picking up the iPhone and clicking on one of them.
“What?” Reece asks when I frown.
I turn my screen around so he can see what I’m looking at. The app’s zeroed in on our location, and there are two red exclamation points and one orange one.
“What are we dealing with?” he asks. “Locusts? Famine?”
“Severe thunderstorm, flash floods and…oh this is nice. Tornado warning,” I read.
“Shit,” he mutters, picking up his menu again.
Darla comes back with our sodas, and I order a grilled cheese
with bacon, while Reece gets a burger.
“What’s the verdict on the weather?” I ask Darla, as she scribbles our orders. “Going to let up?”
She looks out the window, tapping her pen. “Where you kids headed?”
“Kansas City.”
She purses her lips. “Wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t advise my kids to do it, not my grandkids either. Been like this since last night, river’s high, freeway’s flooded in a couple spots.”
Darla shrugs, then shuffles away in her bright white tennis shoes, already hollering our order toward the kitchen.
