Page 25 of His Little Stowaway

“Hiya Flo,” Pearce says, introducing me and ordering two coffees for starters.

There are two huge menus in front of us, and I examine mine but Pearce looks like he has a standing order as well as his own regular booth.

“You can have whatever you want,” he assures me, but there’s a shine in his eyes that’s telling me he knows best.

“I’ll let you surprise me,” I tell him, sliding my menu under his and putting them to one side.

This pleases Pearce, I can tell. And his look signals me that he’s got more in store by way of surprises than just a diner meal too.

“I’ve got a little place out of town,” he says, our coffee arriving at the same time.

He doesn’t mind the waitress, and she doesn’t even blink when he starts to tell me about his country place.

“It’s about time I went out there anyway,” he reflects. “There are a few stops on the way and a decent general store and diner,” he continues. Stopping only to assure the waitress the diner there has nothing on this place.

She blushes like anyone would at a compliment from Pearce’s lips.

Once the elderly waitress is gone he turns his attention to me. Giving me a thousand reasons to blush as he takes my hands in his.

“I hope you’ll like it there, Brynn. Actually, I know you’ll like it.” He beams.

“We can grab some things on the way. If you don’t want to go back for anything that is,” he adds, making me almost drop my coffee cup, spilling a huge puddle of the scolding liquid all over the table.

“Jesus, are you alright?” he exclaims, taking the cup from my hand and using his napkin to stem the flow as it pools towards me.

“I- I’m alright,” I lie. “Just butterfingers, I guess.”

Pearce signals the waitress that he’s got this, and using another napkin he cleans up the mess and makes a neat stack of cups, saucers, and used napkins on the edge of the table.

“I don’t mean to worry you by mentioning going home to pick up anything you need,” he observes.

“Is it really so bad you can’t even go back, not even to collect your things though?” he asks, looking like a man who wants some answers now.

Not just mopping up spilled coffee.

What worries me is if I tell Pearce everything he might storm my mom’s place and do serious damage to the likes of her boyfriend Steve and then his bully of a son.

I can see Pearce knows what I’m thinking, and he’s only probing me for a reaction. Proving the theory in his own mind that I can’t go back. Not even to use the bathroom.

I’m done there, with that life.

I’m his now and he knows it.

“I could go pick up a few things, I suppose,” I say aloud, pretending to consider it before I make a face.

“But, you said it yourself, right? New day, new life. We can just get new stuff as we go.” I affirm, hoping he’ll buy my little act.

He doesn’t.

Worse than that, he plays it back to me, seeing just how far I’ll take my story if I won’t give him the details.

“Then we’ll swing by on the way outta town,” he says. “I’ll wait in the car, so don’t worry. But I will have my eyes on you, the whole time,” he assures me.

I feel my shoulders sag and a sick feeling tugging at my gut.

The thought of that place, let alone going back there is enough to make anyone sick.

Pearce orders for us both, and I excuse myself to go get cleaned up while they clean up the table properly.

I can feel Pearce’s eyes following me all the way to the restroom, and I’m not surprised to find him standing by the door outside, waiting when I’m done.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks long before I have the chance to ask him the same question.

Following me and guarding the bathroom door? I mean. I’m like twenty feet away.

His look is so genuine though. So full of concern that I can’t be mad at him for being so protective, maybe even a little overprotective.

It’s the complete opposite of what I’m used to.

“I’ll be fine,” I reassure him, feeling his hand on my back as he guides me to the booth just as our food arrives.

I pick at mine, but Pearce doesn’t seem to notice until he’s finishing his giant stack of waffles.

There’s bacon and eggs, steak and tomato as well.

I could never eat this much in a week let alone one sitting.

“I thought it was some sort of joke,” I laugh and he looks up, dabbing his chin with a fresh napkin.

“Joke?” he asks.

“Yeah. Take the chunky girl out for a meal and order the challenge plate… something like that,” I murmur, trailing off as I watch his face fall.

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