pretty quiet night at the diner, a few truckers passing through, but that’s about it. That’s all people seem to do in a town like this. The only thing that seems to hang around for any length of time is dust. I have only been here a couple of weeks and if I hadn’t run out of money again, I probably would have breezed right on through. But I was tired of hitch-hiking, tired of being on the move every few days, just tired I guess. So, I stayed and found a job pretty easily at Joe’s diner; but, sometimes I wondered if he made it easy for me because he wanted something out of it. He’s been polite to me so far, but I’m getting the impression that he is starting to lose his patience.
The bell at the top of the door rang to signal that another customer had walked in, so I straighten up from behind the counter and led the guy over to an empty booth. I only look at him when he breathes, “Thanks,” as I pass him the menu. I have to stop my jaw from actually dropping to the floor.
“No problem,” I manage to squeak out. I hurry back to my place behind the counter and try to ignore the tremble in my hands as I refill the sugar pots. I steal glances at the man who looks like he was born in a leather jacket. I can feel my heart rate quicken, as I take in his dark hair and his eyes that are so light they almost look grey. He’s decked out in leather from head to toe and it doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s a biker. There are so many that pass through here, on their way to somewhere more exciting no doubt; but, they usually come in groups, not solo, and they’re not usually so unbelievably handsome.
“Miss,” he says. His voice is low and husky, but it carries over the almost-empty diner. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking to me. I’m the waitress, right. Get it together, Cali, I tell myself.
I take a few deep breaths, as I walk over to his table. When I finally manage to look at him, I can see that he has an amused expression on his face. He shrugs out of his jacket, exposing his muscular arms. I try not to stare at the amazing body that I can see is lurking under his perfectly-fitted t-shirt. My eyes meet his and it’s obvious I’ve been staring. I feel myself flush right down to my feet and his grin becomes even more wolfish. This guy is trouble and he is all too aware of the effect that he has on women. Well, not this woman , I resolve.
“Ready to order?” I ask, making sure not to look at him and focusing on my notepad more than I probably need to.
“Yup, I think I know what I want,” he says in that growly voice. I can feel him looking at me when he says the words. I try not to think about the double meaning that could be lurking behind what he’s saying.
I wait for a few moments, thinking that he’s going to tell me what he’s going to order, but the silence stretches between us and I can feel his eyes burning through my uniform. I feel as if I’m standing naked in front of him and I actually wish that I were. I force myself to look at him and I see he’s leaning back, at ease and completely calm, but also coiled like a spring at the same time.
“So what’ll it be?” I manage to get out, as I brush a strand of curly red hair out of my eyes.
“Coffee, black,” he almost barks out, and then, looks directly into my eyes and smiles like a predator who has just found his prey. “Got anything sweet? I could go for something sweet right now,” he says quietly. I can’t stop my breath from coming in quick gasps, as if I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly.
I clear my throat, as I try to control the inevitably pink flush from spreading over my cheeks. I’ve never been affected by a man this way. He has a kind of magnetism that makes it hard to think straight. “Um...we have some cherry pie,” I manage to get out and I’m impressed that my voice sounds more even than I thought it would.
“Well that sounds just
The bell at the top of the door rang to signal that another customer had walked in, so I straighten up from behind the counter and led the guy over to an empty booth. I only look at him when he breathes, “Thanks,” as I pass him the menu. I have to stop my jaw from actually dropping to the floor.
“No problem,” I manage to squeak out. I hurry back to my place behind the counter and try to ignore the tremble in my hands as I refill the sugar pots. I steal glances at the man who looks like he was born in a leather jacket. I can feel my heart rate quicken, as I take in his dark hair and his eyes that are so light they almost look grey. He’s decked out in leather from head to toe and it doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s a biker. There are so many that pass through here, on their way to somewhere more exciting no doubt; but, they usually come in groups, not solo, and they’re not usually so unbelievably handsome.
“Miss,” he says. His voice is low and husky, but it carries over the almost-empty diner. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking to me. I’m the waitress, right. Get it together, Cali, I tell myself.
I take a few deep breaths, as I walk over to his table. When I finally manage to look at him, I can see that he has an amused expression on his face. He shrugs out of his jacket, exposing his muscular arms. I try not to stare at the amazing body that I can see is lurking under his perfectly-fitted t-shirt. My eyes meet his and it’s obvious I’ve been staring. I feel myself flush right down to my feet and his grin becomes even more wolfish. This guy is trouble and he is all too aware of the effect that he has on women. Well, not this woman , I resolve.
“Ready to order?” I ask, making sure not to look at him and focusing on my notepad more than I probably need to.
“Yup, I think I know what I want,” he says in that growly voice. I can feel him looking at me when he says the words. I try not to think about the double meaning that could be lurking behind what he’s saying.
I wait for a few moments, thinking that he’s going to tell me what he’s going to order, but the silence stretches between us and I can feel his eyes burning through my uniform. I feel as if I’m standing naked in front of him and I actually wish that I were. I force myself to look at him and I see he’s leaning back, at ease and completely calm, but also coiled like a spring at the same time.
“So what’ll it be?” I manage to get out, as I brush a strand of curly red hair out of my eyes.
“Coffee, black,” he almost barks out, and then, looks directly into my eyes and smiles like a predator who has just found his prey. “Got anything sweet? I could go for something sweet right now,” he says quietly. I can’t stop my breath from coming in quick gasps, as if I’ve forgotten how to breathe properly.
I clear my throat, as I try to control the inevitably pink flush from spreading over my cheeks. I’ve never been affected by a man this way. He has a kind of magnetism that makes it hard to think straight. “Um...we have some cherry pie,” I manage to get out and I’m impressed that my voice sounds more even than I thought it would.
“Well that sounds just
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