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Before Beau could respond, the phone went dead. He closed his cell and said a silent prayer that the men who saved so many lives would be safe themselves. That station had become a second home to him and the dozen men who worked at that station had become surrogates for the father he’d lost. That’s how big an influence his father was … it took a dozen men and his uncle Kyle to fill the hole his death had created.
He spun around to face Roberta, who leaned against the back counter. A mile-wide smile sat on her face, and a mason jar of diet soda sat in front of him. Earlier that morning, she was strapped to his site, but she smiled like they were best friends tonight. He’d have to keep an eye on her.
“What part of New York?” She pulled a menu from its holder and set it on the counter for him. She had a voice as sweet as maple syrup and a body that sizzled with sin. “I had a friend from Albany once, but you don’t sound like her.”
“I’m grateful for that.” He couldn’t imagine being in his body with a chick’s voice. “I moved here from New York City.” He glanced at the menu, but he already knew what he’d order. “Some silver-haired lady told me to come here and order the chicken and taters. She said to tell Bobbie she sent me. Is he around?” He peeked past Roberta into the cutout window of the kitchen but didn’t see anyone.
She threw her arms into the air and spun in a circle. “You’re looking at her.” She leaned forward into his personal space. “Roberta … remember? Bobbie for short.” She reached under the counter and took out a napkin and silverware that she set in front of him.
“You’re hard to forget.” And she was. She was quirky and strange, but he found her a refreshing change from the girls he met in New York. They were brand names and fine dining, whereas Bobbie gave him the impression she was the salt of the earth.
“Oh, you won’t forget me.”
“What is it with you?” He cocked his head and stared. “Do you hate old buildings? Construction workers? Hard hats?”
“No, I hate Pete Schiff and Todd Hundley and their disregard for human life.” She scribbled on her order pad. “Food should be ready in a few.” When she turned, something fresh, like squeezed orange juice, drifted through the air. He liked orange juice. She placed his order on a spinning wheel and gave it a turn as she called out, “order up.”
What about this girl made him twitch in an annoyingly good way? Was it the rock of her hips or the shape of her lips? It was hard to pinpoint precisely, but something about her tugged at him.
Bobbie moved throughout the restaurant, laughing, and joking with what appeared to be her regular crowd. He listened intently, hoping to gather information about her. He checked her fingers—no rings—could be single. Then he tried to figure out her age and guessed her to be around thirty-something like him. By the looks of her, she appeared low maintenance. Of course, he could be wrong on that front. Many women spent hours trying to create a natural look, but something told him Bobbie didn’t pretend to be anyone different from who she was.
Fifteen minutes later, she placed a plate filled with fried chicken and tater tots in front of him. “Ketchup?”
“Nope—mayo, please.” He plucked a tot from the plate and popped it into his mouth. It was so hot he had to roll it around to avoid burning the skin off his tongue and cheek.
“No way. I love mayo on my tots, too.” She called to the back for a side of mayonnaise. “People look at me like I’m insane, but it adds richness to otherwise common food.”
Seconds later, she pulled a little bowl of creamy white goodness from the window and gently placed it next to his plate.
“Who’s the woman I ran into? She said her name was Marge or something like that.” He forked a tater tot and ran it through the mayo. He didn’t eat it. Instead, he held it out as a peace offering to get them past where they’d been that morning.
She eyed the food and then him before wrapping her luscious lips around the tines and pulling the bite free. She closed her eyes and hummed. The altitude didn’t affect him nearly as much as Bobbie did. She made his breath hitch and his mind go hazy. The way she ate tater tots could unhinge a man.It was pure seduction.
“Her name is Midge, and she owns the place.” Bobbie helped herself to another tot before she gathered the salt and pepper shakers from all the tables.
“Midge must be doing her best to pad the profits this week by recruiting diners from the grocery store.” He chuckled. “Genius. All she has to do is find men who look lost and then steer them to Spurs.”
Several of the guests paid and left, leaving the stragglers behind. Once Bobbie had the shakers and sugar jars lined up, she plopped onto the seat next to him.
“So … Big City Boy, besides working for despicable people, what brings you to our fine state?” She filled the sugar jars and shoved them to the side.
Everything was in the details, and he wished he could climb into her head and pick apart her thoughts. When she referred to him as a big city boy, was it his size or where he came from?
“My Uncle Kyle and the job brought me here. You know, the place I work that you tried to sabotage today?” He hadn’t planned to start anything. All he wanted was to have a good dinner, head back to Kyle’s, and get a good night’s sleep.
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you do your homework? I bet there’s a great mind behind those gorgeous baby blues.” She spilled salt and lowered her head to blow it across the table onto the floor.
He watched her lips pucker, and the air whooshed across his arm, causing his skin to prickle with awareness.
“I’ve been in town less than forty-eight hours and on the job for one day.” He bit into a piece of chicken, and the juice ran down his chin. His taste buds came to life from the meal that was hands down better than anything he’d had in months. Midge was right. He needed this meal.
Bobbie eyed his napkin, and he was sure she’d pick it up and wipe the grease from his face. Without breaking eye contact, he picked it up and wiped his chin.
She licked her lips and swallowed before tearing her gaze away. “Well, Big City, eat up. I lock the doors in fifteen.” She slid from the stool and returned the shakers to each table.
Did he imagine it, or was she flirting with that lick of her lips? He looked again, but this time didn’t miss the beguiling glance she gave him. Bobbie disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a small to-go container. She slid it across the counter. “You don’t want to miss my pie.” The words whispered past her lush lips like seduction. Yep, she was flirting.
In a slow, deep, gravelly voice, he asked, “Do you give your pie to every stranger who walks in?”
She leaned in and brought her lips close to his ear. “Just the cute ones.” She pulled back and walked away. “By the way, it’s cherry. Just wait until you pop that cherry … into your mouth. It’s life changing as far as pie goes.” She laughed all the way to the kitchen.
That girl was big trouble.
After he finished, he tossed a twenty and his business card on the table. He picked up the pie and walked out the door, hoping Bobbie would call.
