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I can do this.
He’s sitting in his usual spot, cradling his latte while looking out one of the large glass panes. Watching what I assume to be the heavy rainfall, he’s got his face all warped into a scowl and a part of me wants to abort my plan. If something is bothering him, then he wouldn’t want some random woman talking to him, would he?
Plus, he’s not even wearing that red shirt of his today. He came here on a day off. Sawyer probably just wants to enjoy his meal in peace.
I’ve got a rag in my hands, an excuse to get close. Keeping my promise to myself, I push forward and slowly make my way toward him. Outside of a couple of customers still waiting in line, there’s no one around to pull me away.
Creeping closer, I scrub at some crust on a table near his. I try my hardest not to notice how good he looks in a button-up flannel. He’s got his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his hairy forearms. What I’d do to run my fingers up the length of those arms.
“How does your food taste?” I ask as I notice his half-eaten bagel sandwich. This meal, I purposely made. Can he taste all the love I poured into preparing it? At the time, I thought we could chat about the extra few slices of bacon I put on it. Now, I’m thinking that’s silly.
Sawyer turns his head fast enough to get whiplash as if I’ve startled him. I can’t help but bite down a laugh as he looks at me. The scowl that worried me–gone, disappeared from the world. Soft brown eyes the color of mocha meet mine and I have to teach myself how to breathe normally.
“Delicious so far.” His deep voice carries all the way to my stomach, filling the poor thing with butterflies. “Thank you.”
This would be the time to run back behind the counter, hiding away and squashing down my crush. Not today. My feet are weighing a ton and refusing to let me walk. I’m stuck here, probably gawking at the man. Scrubbing at nothing but the finish on the table, I clear my throat.
“The rain is something. Not even the weathermen were able to predict this much coming down.”
Yikes, Julie. Because the weather is the best opening to a first-time conversation.
Despite making fun of myself, I can’t ignore the way his lips twitch into a small smile. A win is a win and I’m feeling like a champion.
“I’ve passed some flooding earlier, it’s going to get even messier. Make sure you’re careful driving home in this mess.” He’s sounding a bit stern giving the order and the butterflies double in size.
“Luckily, I don’t have to worry about that. I walk to work. I just have to make sure my umbrella doesn’t fly away.” Attempting a joke, I ache to hear a throaty chuckle. Instead, the scowl is back. Pointed in my direction, I don’t cave in and run away. No, my legs aren’t reliable enough, not when they’ve got a little shake to them when I hear him grunt in disapproval.
That’s a new one.
“How long is your walk? Tell me you don’t live far away.” It’s another order sent my way like he needs the reassurance that I’m not going to fall into a puddle and drown.
Our first real conversation and this is how it’s turning out. Information I shouldn’t be admitting to him starts to flow out.
“I live over by the diner. That complex they built last year, I stay in one of the townhouses.” I stop washing the table, focusing all my attention on maintaining normal composure. When his brows furrow and his nose scrunches, it makes acting normalveryhard.
“That’s on the other side of town, Julie.”
And now my face feels hot, burning to the touch. Has he ever spoken my name before, even in passing? No, I’d definitely remember that.
“What time do you get off?” he asks next, hardly giving me the time to think of any excuses on why I make the walk every day or why I haven’t wanted to waste the money buying a car.
“Around four–” I start before shaking my head, “It’s fine, Sawyer. Really.”
Now we’re on a first-name basis, look at me go. He doesn’t even question how I know his name but the air does feel a bit heavier when he stares at me.
We’ve done plenty of staring in the past, but it’s always been at a distance. Up close, some serious damage can be made here.
I’m learning new things about the man. For instance, how stubborn he is. When he tells me he’ll give me a ride, hardly making it an offer, my sore toes curl in my non-slips. As if I’d decline this man.
Nodding my head, I stumble out a thanks of appreciation.
Hearing the bell attached to the front door jingle more than once, I try to find my next words.
“Um, I should get back to help them.” The poor rag in my hand is getting squeezed so tight, that the sanitizing liquid is dripping. “I’ll see you later then?”
“Definitely.” The word comes out immediately, a firm promise to see him outside of his usual lunch visits.
I want to jump with joy, but I don’t. Instead, I let a smile linger on my lips and head back behind the counter where I’m welcomed by many stares by my employees and some whispered questions. None will be answered.
