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“You haven’t been a waitress long,” I remarked.
She frowned. “What?”
“Your hands. They’re soft.”
She pulled away from me, as though I’d unnerved her.
I shouldn’t have said anything. Could’ve held onto her hand longer.
“You’re observant,” she remarked.
“I just look that way.”
She frowned again, like she was puzzled.
“‘Observant’?... ‘Look that way’?” I explained.
Her frown smoothed out, and she rolled her eyes. “That was one of the lamest jokes I’ve heard in awhile.”
I liked that. Liked that she didn’t laugh just to appease me.
Plenty of other women would have.
“Guilty as charged,” I grinned. “Any joke you’ve got to explain is a bad one.”
“Unless the audience is stupid. Although that wasn’t the case here,” she said with another cool smile.
“I concur. So… what can I do you for, Ms. Christensen?”
“Fiona.”
“Fiona,” I said, liking the way it felt on my tongue. I was pretty sure I’d like the way she’d feel on my tongue, too.
“I just wanted to say thank you again. For earlier. I feel like I wasn’t… appropriately grateful.”
“Well… you could’ve handled it, right?” I grinned.
She smiled back. This time her expression was warmer. “I could have. But thank you for what you did.”
“My pleasure. So, new in town, new to being a waitress… what’s your story?”
“Not much of one. Failed actress, left LA, now I’m here.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
She shrugged. “It happens.”
“I suppose it does. Cut-throat business, Hollywood.”
“Yes it is.”
“Let me be the first to welcome you to Richards. Or, if I’m not the first, then the second or third.”
“You’re the first,” she said, with another one of those smiles that I felt below the belt. In a very pleasant sort of way.
“I’m afraid we’re a step or two down from Los Angeles in the glamour department.”
“You more than make up for it in cost of living.”
