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Until Dena hurries around the bar, teetering on her high heels—why is she in high heels, for God’s sake?—and stage-whispers at me, “It’s him!”
“Him, who?”
“Ross Jones!”
Shit. “What is he doing here?” Lowering myself behind the bar, not caring if I look ridiculous, I scan the diner for a certain tall blond. “Why?”
“He’s a paying customer, chickadee. Coffee and pancakes, that’s his poison, at least in here. From what I hear and see, pancakes may be his only solid food group. He tends to live on booze most of the time.”
Still. The monster eats like us real humans? Go figure.
I see him enter and let out a hissing breath. “Shit.”
“Mike won’t be pleased,” she goes on, tugging a chestnut strand behind her ear. “Last time he told me not to let Ross in, but how can you stop him?”
“Mike Meyer, the owner? Why not? Because of his rap sheet?”
“Because he doesn’t pay. Put it on my bill, he always says. His bill has to be as long as the diner is wide by now. He always finds excuses.”
I lift my head above the bar and watch as he takes a seat by the window, stuck speechless. My dad and brother telling me he’s still around is one thing, but seeing him with my own eyes, after all this time...
Disconcerting.
Because he’s still hot. Nah scratch that: hotter. My God, when did this happen, between going to prison and his dad trying to kill him? Is he an alien? When did his cheekbones become so sharp, his lips so full, his shoulders so wide?
Did I forget his beauty? It’s lethal. A strike to the heart. It makes your eyes burn, your heart constrict. But he’s no good. A rotten heart, hidden inside the most gorgeous boy in town. How ironic is that? How unfair?
A whole frigging lot.
“Okay, fine,” I mutter. Not much I can do against a customer, is there? “But you serve him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“No problem.” She glances at him and away, and a blush spreads on her cheeks. “He’s so sexy,” she breathes, and I gape at her, amazed. “Don’t you think?”
No. God, no. She has a crush on him? Really? Don’t girls around here have any brains? “He’s an asshole, Dena.”
“So what?”
“So I don’t want to be close to him, or anywhere near him. He bullied me at school, and around the town, called me names, along with his asshole friends. I hate his guts.”
She frowns. “Oh come on, don’t make such a big deal out of it.”
“Are you serious right now? Not a big deal?” A hiss escapes me. My heart is racing. Hot tears rise to my eyes, but I blink them away.
“Yeah, like, don’t make a scene. He’s a customer, and all that was in the past.”
“My past, not yours,” I whisper, anger burning through me like a wildfire. “Not your call.”
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she grabs her pad and the coffee pot. “Whatever. You were away too long, chick. Not many handsome men in town, I’ll have you know. Not gonna pine after old pudgy men with beer bellies. I’d much rather pine after sexy bad boys, and you know what? I can be in lust and not explain myself to anyone, much less you.”
“If you want to date a bully, now that’s up to you. People don’t change, Dena.” I shake my head.
“Look, I’m not out to marry him or anything. It’s just his hot body I’m after. A night with him, that’s all.”
She swings her hips as she makes her way to him, and I turn away, not to see either of them. Problem is, she thinks that now, that it’s just lust, that she can walk away anytime. That she can sleep with him and then forget him.
