CHAPTER 13: Danielle

Randy had been sitting at the end of the counter for the better part of an hour, looking me up and down and clicking his tongue.

He finished his free bowl of gumbo and large shrimp po’boy and burped loud enough for everyone in the diner to hear him. Since most of the diners were Randy’s fishing, drinking, or working buddies, they laughed like he was the king of the court. Apparently, I was the only person in Bellegrade who thought Randy was an annoying idiot.

I glanced at my watch and gave a little sigh.

This time twenty-four hours ago, I had been heading to the lake with Terry to begin the most amazing night of my life.

The sad thing was that my amazing night had come to an end and I had returned to my boring life.

I’d woken up naked, sore, and horny between the Wolf brothers. We shared one last orgasm together, took one last shower together, and then they dropped me off at my little trailer in time to change and get to the diner for breakfast.

I somehow managed to get through the breakfast and lunch services, even though I was exhausted and had a hard time focusing on the tasks at hand.

By dinner, I had settled down a bit because exhaustion had set in. Every muscle in my body ached. I couldn’t wait to get home and kick off my shoes and soak in a hot bath. I had a new respect for the ladies of the evening who walked the streets in New Orleans and had sex for a living.

I’d had no idea sex could be so exhausting.

Well, marathon sex with two hunky studs, I should have said…

“So, you gonna tell us how your date went or what?” Randy asked when I came over to take his dirty plates. My dad was propped up in the pass-through with the spatula in his hand and a cigarette dangling from his teeth, also interested in the answer.

“It wasn’t a date,” I said, giving him a look. “And even if it was, it’s none of your business.”

“I was just asking,” Randy said, winking at my dad. “You gonna see Mr. Big Shot again, or was it a one-night stand?”

“Fuck you, Randy,” I snapped. Every head in the diner turned toward me. Randy’s mouth dropped and my dad tugged the cigarette from his teeth.

“Danny, he’s just kidding,” Dad said. “What’s the matter with you?”

“There’s nothing the matter with me, Dad,” I said, gritting my teeth. “My life is just fucking amazing!”

“Danny, watch that kind of talk,” Dad said. “You know your mother wouldn’t like you using that word.”

“My mother ran off with another man!” I screamed, throwing my hands in the air. “Don’t you remember, Dad? She ran off and left us alone!”

“Your life ain’t so bad,” Randy growled. “Could be a helluva lot worse.”

“You’re right, Randy. My life is amazing! I own a shitty little diner that barely makes enough money to pay my bills. My dipshit ex-husband comes in every night to eat and drink for free. And my own father won’t back me up when I try to throw you out! Not to mention the fact that I’ll die old and alone someday in this shitty little town! You’re right! My fucking life is amazing!”

The moment I finished my rant, I looked around to find everyone in the place gawking at me with their mouths hanging open.

Shit, I didn’t blame them.

I would have been gawking at me, too.

I had apparently lost my ever-loving mind.

I took a deep breath held out my hands. I tugged the order pad from my back pocket and tossed it onto the counter. I took off the apron I had tied around my waist and tossed it in Randy’s face.

“I need a break,” I said, glancing at my dad. “I’m sure you can handle closing up. If you can’t, ask Randy to help you.”

“Danny,” Dad said quietly. There was a look of concern on his face I’d never seen before. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Dad,” I said with a long sigh. “I just have to go.”

* * *

I was soaking in the tub when I heard the knock at my front door. I lived in a dinky trailer and a hard knock on the metal door rattled the walls and made the dishes in the cupboard shake.

I was on my third glass of cheap wine and feeling pretty mellow, but I still didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

I doubted it was Randy or my dad.

They both know better than to come knocking after I lost my shit on them.

I’d apologize to Dad tomorrow.

Randy could eat shit and die.

They knocked again. My cell phone was on the side of the tub. I glanced at it, thinking maybe Terry and Tony were back for more. Then I realized they were in New Orleans, watching the Saints take on the Bears in the September post-season game. Those boys loved to fuck, but not enough to miss a Bears game, according to Terry.

They knocked a third time. A little harder.

“Fuck,” I said. I pushed myself out of the tub and pulled on my old white terrycloth robe as I went to the door, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the cracking linoleum floor.

They knocked again.

“All right, give me a minute,” I yelled, tying the sash to keep the robe in place. I clicked on the porch light and jerked the door open, ready for a bear.

Standing at the bottom of the steps was a man I didn’t recognize.

He had a bushy beard and was wearing a black cap with some kind of eagle emblem on the front. The cap was pulled low over his eyes.

He was muscled up. His chest and shoulders pushed against the black T-shirt he wore. The shirt had the same emblem on the right of the chest. I could make out what looked like the image of a gold eagle, a ship’s anchor, and an old pistol of some kind.

I remembered seeing the emblem in a movie.

It was the emblem of the Navy SEALS.

“Hi, Danny,” he said.

His voice was ghostly familiar, like a voice from a distant memory, or a voice from a dream. He pushed back his cap and smiled at me.

Davy Boone was home.