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She perks up immediately, a genuine smile raining sunshine down on me. The loss of her hand feels like mourning all over again, but the sway in her hips as she rushes to fetch my drink more than makes up for my renewed bereavement. For the first time in months, my pants tighten uncomfortably as my dick stirs to life.
A rush of bile swims up my throat. I scrub my hands over my face, resting my elbows on the table top until I can pull it together. That girl can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old. The thoughts multiplying in my brain are not only criminal in light of my age, but abhorrent from a moral standpoint.
She’s not my wife. She’s not my wife. She’s not my wife.
I’m already familiar with what a cruel bastard God is, but could he really be vile enough to align these unlikely stars? I pulled over into this Podunk town because I ran out of gas and the will to keep driving. I didn’t seek this place out. It means nothing to me. The biggest structure around for miles is a stadium. With no familiar chain restaurants to catch my eye, this dingy old diner seemed like the only place to refuel.
The young waitress returns with a bright smile and my drink. “Do you need a few more minutes to look over the menu, or are you ready to order?”
There’s no denying the uncanny resemblance, right down to her height and weight. I guarantee if I checked the tag on her bra, it would read 32A. Even her nickname is the same. What are the odds? Why is this happening to me? What the hell have I done in my life to deserve this kind of torture?
“I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake. I can’t stay. I should get back on the road.” I rise from my seat so quickly, she stumbles back. After slapping down a few ones on the table to cover my untouched iced tea, I hightail it out of that living hell as fast as my shaking legs can carry me.
Once inside the safety of my vehicle, I bang my head off the steering wheel a few times. I almost regret not snapping a covert photo of the waitress and texting it to my sister. She’d be able to talk me off the ledge and point out the obvious—my Evelyn is gone and that young girl, while strikingly similar, isn’t her.
I need to get back on the highway. This town spells nothing but more heartbreak for me. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.
The sound of a blaring car horn prompts me to abandon my hiding. I lift my gaze to see a silver Lexus cut off a blue antique Mustang as they obviously angle for the best parking spot, closest to the front door of the building. Within seconds, the lot fills with more cars. Sweaty bodies pour out of the vehicles. The young men are obviously rowdy as they shove each other and race to the door, tripping over themselves in their eagerness to escape the sweltering heat. The town’s high school football team—done with practice for the day, maybe.
From what I can tell, the only staff inside are the hostess and a single waitress. There’s likely a cook in the kitchen, but there’s no way three employees will be able to withstand the onslaught of testosterone and violent hunger overrunning the place.
I bang my head off the seat rest a few times, knowing I can’t walk away. Those animals could make life hell for the next few hours for those poor women, and I have no idea how responsive the police in this town might be if trouble erupts.
“Fuck.”
My table is still empty when I retrace my steps. The silverware and iced tea haven’t been cleared away. Sweat coats the glass. No sooner do I reclaim my seat than the girl reappears, tears welling in her blue eyes.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s kind of crazy in here right now, but please let me get you some lunch. It’s on the house.”
If not for forgetting how to use those muscles, I might laugh outright. Is she offering to buy my lunch because I stormed out of here like a lunatic? “It wasn’t anything you did or said, I promise. I realized I don’t need to get back on the road as quickly as I thought. I didn’t get a chance to look at the menu, so I’ll take whatever you recommend.” I glance around her slightly shaking form to where several of the meatheads are throwing balled up napkins at each other. “Between you and me, I couldn’t in good conscience take off while all hell might be breaking loose in here. I’ll stay until they clear out, just to make sure there’s no trouble for you.”
She huffs out a laugh then follows my gaze before facing me and rolling her eyes. “Thanks, but I got this. I’m plenty used to the Ironville football team and their antics. They can wait a few extra minutes while I get you taken care of. How does a turkey club with homemade coleslaw sound? It’s the special of the day, so it’ll be ready in a flash.”
Watching my wife’s doppelganger serve a bunch of spoiled jocks for the next few hours sounds like my own personal nightmare, but this poor, frazzled girl doesn’t need to know that. “Sounds great. Sold.”
Her smile can only be described as grateful. “Thank you so much for giving me another chance. I promise I’m not always this crazy. I’ll be right back with your food.”
She might not be crazy, but I definitely could be. The way one of the guys watches her flee into the kitchen with obvious lust in his eyes makes my fists curl and my blood pulse with a level of fierce protectiveness that I shouldn’t be feeling for a complete stranger.
In mere moments as promised, she thrusts a plate under my nose. “Here you go. I have to start filling their orders, but if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask. You’re my number one priority this afternoon, okay?”
I haven’t felt like anyone’s priority in so long, her words ring more heartfelt than they probably are. “I won’t be a problem. I can’t say the same for them, though, so how about a deal? If I need anything, I’ll call on you. If you need anything, you let me know. I’ve got your back, Evie.”
As if it takes the taste of her name on my tongue to alert the players to her presence, a particularly rowdy table begins chanting for her to notice them.
She rolls her eyes again. “I may take you up on that.”
“Please do.”
She’s gone as quickly as she came. I watch in fascination as she takes orders and serves drinks and lunches with an impressive bustle. As suspected, no one comes to her aid. It’s just this single girl versus a mob of twenty hungry men. And just like before, the hunger in one football player’s eyes suggests she’s the only thing on the menu he really wants.
He’s taller than most of his teammates and also much quieter. While they sling good-natured insults at one another, harass Evie, and scarf down their food, he tracks her every movement in the same way I’m tempted to. With blue-green eyes and sandy hair, it’s obvious she might find him attractive.
That theory evaporates as I study their meager interactions. He seems to hang on every little word or gesture from her, but she spares him not even a passing glance. If I didn’t know better—and I really don’t—I’d guess she’s actually avoiding him as much as possible. Her demeanor isn’t quite as frosty toward the other players. She seems very friendly with one of them. There’s no physical resemblance, but she treats him like a brother.
A few times she stops by my table to refill my drink without asking or to check on me. As the minutes tick by, I find myself completely enraptured with her. It’s obvious from watching her work that she’s mentally and physically strong. Judging by the way she slings trays without asking for help from her co-workers, she must be independent and stubborn to a fault. Each interaction with her classmates makes me want to know more about her. Who she trusts in this crowd and why, her individual history and her past experiences with them. I want to know what makes her tick, and if she’s more or less like Evelyn than I can glean from these surface impressions.
By the time she delivers the check to the lone remaining table a whopping three hours later, a foreign noise bubbles out of my throat.
