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“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quickly.
“Absolutely not. Fuck that. We aren’t here to get sappy and depressed. Coffee. Now.”
“Yes, princess,” he teased. The old childhood nickname had some of my angry mood melting away. He’d named me that not for being pampered, but for always wanting to be the main character in the fantasy stories I read.
Lockwood was a breath of fresh air. We walked down the sidewalk toward the downtown area in silence. It was nice to relax and just take in my surroundings. Everything had been a grind since college, then in my job, and after the chaotic experience on the show, I was ready to embrace a change like this.
“So, you have two options for coffee. The Raven’s Nest has coffee and is also a used bookstore. Then The Diner On Main is the main place to get good, quick diner food and Ezra’s coffee rivals the Raven’s Nest. It’s just not as fancy.
“I’m hungry, let’s go see this diner. Then maybe after breakfast we can get fancy coffee,” I said. “Why pick when I can have both?”
“No one should drink that much coffee in one morning,” Micah said. “Why do I feel like I need to force you to hydrate and eat your vegetables?”
“Because I haven’t eaten a salad since I left home, and water is in my coffee, Micah,” I said, walking ahead a bit so I could hide my smile. His groan of exasperation had me cracking up.
“You know, I’m a very important person here in Lockwood. One word and both Ezra and Walter would be on my side and deny you coffee,” he bluffed. I raised an eyebrow at him and waited for the telltale sign Micah was lying. A huge grin spread across my face as his left eye twitched slightly.
“Ha! See, you’re lying. Either you’re not important or you wouldn’t get between me and my caffeine. There would be headaches, bitchiness, and a terrible withdrawal. Would you inflict that sort of suffering on someone you love and adore?” I batted my eyelashes for good measure and Micah rolled his eyes but still hooked an arm around my shoulders and led me across the street to the diner on the corner.
It was thankfully not one of those overly gaudy retro diners with uncomfortable seating. The counter was topped with butcher block, the chairs a forest green that matched the booths which also looked carved from the same, dark wood. It very much had a woodsy vibe.
But it was the man behind the counter that had me pausing. I had no right to even check out another guy with my track record, but I couldn’t help but stare. He was a few years older than me, his dark hair and stubble gave him a bit of a rugged look.
Bright-blue eyes looked up at us for a moment before he was off delivering another plate and that moment nearly froze me in place. Damn, he was gorgeous.
His diner tee and flannel was a combination that, apparently, did things to me. Or maybe it was the muscle bulging under the fabric.
Micah snorted. “Stop drooling over the man.”
“I’m not, it smells amazing in here,” I lied and for once, he didn’t call me on it. Instead, he led me right to the counter and took a seat. It was almost worse. Now I was only a few feet away and I could already feel my face burning.
Micah chuckled to himself as he slid over a menu, not bothering to take one for himself. At least I had something to focus on.
Until I heard the deep timbre of this adonis of a man.
“What can I get you?” When I looked up he just stared at us with no real emotion on his face. It felt guarded, almost flat, yet I could see curiosity in his eyes.
“I’ll take a coffee and the waffle with hashbrowns on the side,” I said in what I hoped was a calm voice. From my asshole of a brother’s laughter, it wasn’t.
“Eggs?” he questioned. I wrinkled my nose at the thought but Micah ordered them for me.
“Make them scrambled and just add them to mine. She’d waste them,” he said. “I’ll have my usual omelet.” The fact Ezra didn’t ask any further questions meant Micah was a regular. And he had the audacity to make a comment about my coffee.
When the intimidating alpha walked away I jabbed a finger into Micah’s side, making him let out an undignified squeak that had a few patrons turning our way.
“You get to say nothing about my dang eating and drinking habits. You don’t even have to give him a full order. He just knows it.”
“I mean, I don’t eat here every day,” Micah tried to backtrack but Ezra was walking by and let out a deep chuckle.
“Just six days a week,” he mumbled.
“Ouch. Caught in your lie, dear brother,” I teased. “That means you get to buy me breakfast.”
“Turn that up!” an older man called over the diner chatter. Ezra grabbed a remote and turned up the television. The newscaster was going on about elections coming up before it switched to commercials.
Ezra brought over my coffee, so I didn’t notice until Micah let out a strangled sound. My face was front and center on the TV. I should have known in the weeks before the finale that they’d be everywhere.
Even in Lockwood, I wasn’t safe.
