Everything I knew about women was complete and utter bullshit.
Dana broke all the rules, and all my experiences went right out the damn window.
I’d always thought I’d want someone who was a little shy, but confident. She was bold, but there was something about her boldness that made me question if she wasn’t just putting on a show.
Maybe it was how, when I asked her to leave with me, something that all her signals were pointing to, it seemed to surprise her. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a deep breath. I didn’t know what to think.
Seriously. The woman flirted with me at the gym, basically asked me out. Told me she wanted to do more than just talk. Then hung around until last call with me. All arrows pointed to she wanted … uh … the goods.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Had I not given my word to Reub, I would have fallen for it right away. I wouldn’t have given sleeping with her a second thought. Like I said before, I didn’t initiate sex with women I’d only met, but I’m not a fan of denying someone what they want either.
On top of that, I wanted her so fucking bad.
Then again, there was something telling me that wasn’t the real her, and with sex off the table, my eyes were wide open. It allowed me to pick up on some interesting things. Details. Clues. She was a puzzle, and I wanted more. However, without getting physical, I needed something else to do at midnight that would stretch out our time together.
I’d been drinking, so I’d have to come back for my truck, and I wasn’t about to let her drive. So I had Danny, the bartender who I’d watched make her drinks a little too strong, call the cab for us. The impulse to say, “That’s right, Cocktail. She’s leaving with me,” had been damn near irresistible, but I held back.
Her demeanor changed as we walked out of the Mill East, but thankfully over the past few hours mine had too. Her aggressiveness had faded, and I wasn’t that bumbling idiot I’d been before.
Dana seemed almost delicate, but I knew she’d be all right.
I’d make certain of it.
“That was fast,” I said as we walked out into the warm early summer night. The familiar cab was already pulled over at the entrance for us.
“Yeah,” she said. “Tell me about it.”
She stepped aside with her head down when she saw me reaching for the door. I held it open and absentmindedly touched the small of her back as she got in.
That was a mistake. I was trying to be on my best behavior and touching her didn’t help.
It was alarming how far over she scooted. My chest pinched.
Was this the same woman who was licking her straw and giving me fuck eyes only minutes before?
“Are you going where I am?” I asked to confirm with her that she really wanted to go with me.
She didn’t verbalize an answer, but instead nodded. Her body language was different now that we were leaving together.
“You know where I’m going, Jared?” It wasn’t the first time he’d picked me up, and I only ever went one place that late at night.
“Yeah, but you’re taking her?”
We knew where, but Dana didn’t. I almost lost it and came clean, but then I saw some of her feistiness spark back to life. She shot me a fantastic look—half playfully outraged, half truly insulted.
“Yes, I’m taking Dana with me.” I gave her a reassuring grin. She gave me one back, but it was contrite.
“All right. All right. Just asking.” Jared moved the gear shifter, and off we went. We weren’t traveling far, but every second that passed I could hear her breathing speed up. Inhaling through her nose and exhaling out her mouth. Her leg bounced beside mine. Visibly nervous.
Then she scrolled through her phone as we rode, but I didn’t bother looking, not wanting to add to her anxiety. So I rode quietly beside her, staring out the window.
When we pulled up, I nudged her leg with my knee. After the sound of an outgoing message whooshed through the cab, she looked up.
Her sudden laugh was a precious gift and the only evidence I needed to confirm I’d made the right call.
She inched closer to look out my window. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“I am most certainly not joking, Red.”
“The Waffle House?” She smacked my arm. “Sorry. Are you serious?”
I nodded and pulled the handle on the door. “Do you like it?”
“I hate being called Red, but I think you mean the restaurant. And, as far as that goes, I have no clue. Never been to one.”
“How is that even possible?” I asked, but her tiny hands were already pushing me to get out.
She stared up at the building and its big yellow and black letters. The U, S, and E were blinking off and on, and it kind of looked like Waffle Ho.
“Well, we didn’t have one in Colby where I grew up,” she explained.
Her mood seemed to have changed again. Already tonight she’d been coy, flirty, and passive, but the expression she wore as I helped her out of the car looked the most natural. And, although mildly intoxicated, I took the bounce in her step as further proof it was a good move.
We walked in, and there were two seats at the counter, but I liked the tiny booths best, and one was almost available. The people were getting up to pay and leave.
Calvie-Jay caught my eye, and I pointed to the almost vacant booth where I normally sat. He went back to doing his thing.
I continued our conversation as I waited for the table. “Okay, so you didn’t have one back home which makes sense, but what about college? After late night? It’s the Waffle House for crying out loud.”
Her blue eyes tipped up at me, and she answered, “What can I say? I’m a Taco Bell girl. After midnight, I run for the border.” I liked this version of her better than all the others. She wasn’t standoffish, but she didn’t seem like she was putting on an act either.
It felt like the real her. I’d been attracted to her since the moment I’d first saw her, but it was her personality that kept me wanting more. On my toes. Made me curious. The glimpse of the lighthearted side of her pleased me.
After letting two young guys who were on their way out past us, I let her go in front of me to the empty booth. She slid in and genuinely looked excited about it. She glowed as she took in the bustling atmosphere of one of my favorite places.
“Cordy, porgie. Puddin’ pie. Kissed the girls and made ‘em cry,” sang Calvie-Jay as he handed us two menus over the half wall that separated the dining area from the open-air kitchen. I didn’t need one, but I took it anyway.
“Hey, Calvie-Jay,” I said.
“Coffee and water, for you?” he confirmed. Then he jumped back and pretended he was shocked that I had a date. Then again, maybe he was shocked. I’d never been there with anyone except the guys and mom.
“Honey, you know you don’t have to sit there. The seating is limited, but surely you could have found something more desirable to look at while you eat.”
I’d heard him say it to women before. Dozens of times.
Always, the lady could do better.
Always, they’d laugh and look sympathetically at their male date—who would instantly benefit from being the butt of Calvie-Jay’s joke.
Dana could do better, and that was a fact.
Her hand covered her lips as she attempted to control her laugh. When she failed, her fingers slid down her neck, and she leaned forward with a pouty bottom lip.
I had to shift in the miniature booth. My obsession with her lips was getting intense. So was how my body—specifically my cock—reacted to them.
Thanks, Calvie-Jay.
After a few seconds, she smiled at the thin man who’d been serving me breakfasts nearly my whole life. She peeked around me at the other table searching for something, and when she finally saw what she was looking for, she requested, “I’ll have two coffees.”
He cocked his head sharply. “What are you talking about two coffees? Girl, you get free refills.”
“I’ll drink the first one really fast. Your mugs are small. I’ll just need two to start, please.”
Calvie-Jay shook his head like he’d had the daylights knocked out of him. “Now that’s a new one.” His dark eyes grew big, and he gave me a closed mouth smile before he left.
If it weren’t for the glassiness in her eyes and the gentle sway of her shoulders that never stopped, Dana would have looked perfectly sober. She’d had a few strong drinks that I knew of and certainly a few more at the girls’ table. Food was a good idea.
She read the menu and took a deep breath. It was a lot to take in the first time.
I could have watched her read the laminated sheet all night, but I made a split-second decision and went out on a limb.
“Do you want to try something?”
She squinted, and her eyes roamed my face. “Like what?” Her expression was priceless, and there was no telling what she had running through her mind.
“Let me order for you.”
Her mouth pinched to the side, and her knee began to bounce again, shaking the whole tiny booth.
She put the menu on the table and asked, “Why would I do that? You don’t know what I like.” Her pretty lips puckered, punctuating her sassy challenge.
I shrugged and shifted in my seat again. A brief reappearance of one of the fantasies I’d had of her—okay, mostly her mouth—flashed through my mind. It was just going to take some time for me to get used to looking at her and what the sight of her did to me. Why had I ever thought eating with her would help that?
“I know,” I admitted. “I was going to show you what I like.”
She outright laughed in my face. “Oh, my God. Cut the crap.”
“What crap?” I sat back as far as I could in the small bench seat.
“This nice, normal guy crap. Okay? You don’t have to do all of this.”
Calvie-Jay left our drinks then ran away, obviously overhearing our conversation.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Cord, I don’t know if it’s the rum or what, but can I just be honest? I wasn’t born yesterday. Guys—who look like you—don’t do all of this.” Both of her index fingers swirled in the air. “They don’t have to.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Or maybe I did, but I wasn’t sure how it applied to me and her grabbing a late-night meal.
“Seriously? Okay. Fine. When was the last time you brought a girl to the Waffle House?”
Whoa. She had some fucked up Jedi mind trick skills.
Honestly, I answered, “Never.”
“Right. Because you’re hot. Stupid hot, in fact.” She pretty much chugged the first tiny cup, black—no cinnamon. When she placed the empty mug on the table, she said, “Oh shit, that’s good. Anyway, I win.”
Was she right or wrong?
What?
“You win at what?” I tapped my foot as I thought.
She stated, “I’m the first girl you’ve brought here.”
Wasn’t that a good thing?
She perched her chin on her clasped hands, gloating and beautiful. “I can see right through this.”
“Listen, Feisty P.I., I just want to order. I’m hungry.”
“Feisty P.I.?” she smarted back. I liked it.
“Well, it’s a good name for you seeing as how you’re interrogating me.”
Her face softened, but just by half. “I’ll stop if you just call me by my name and admit that I’m right.”
Between you and me, she was wrong. Maybe not about men in general, but entirely wrong about me. I’d have to change her mind about that, and it wasn’t going to magically happen. Plus, I was hungry.
“Deal. Now, Dana. Will you. Let me. Order for. You?”
Calvie-Jay was back, but he didn’t interrupt.
I reassured her, “Just trust me, then if you don’t like it—if you absolutely hate it—you can order something else. And I’ll owe you one.”
It was a loaded statement, but I’d love to owe her one. Win or lose, I didn’t care.
“Okay,” she answered reluctantly and looked up at our server, waiting to hear her dining fate.
“Calvie-Jay, we’d like two waffles. All the way.” I pointed at Dana. “One half and half.”
Dana quickly looked back at her menu, her wavy copper hair falling on either side of her face as she scoured to find what it was I’d ordered. She had no idea.
Calvie looked skeptical, but answered, “Damn. Okay.” Then he was gone again.
While they prepared our food, I wanted to circle back to something she’d said. Specifically, the thing about her thinking I was hot.
“You seem to think you know a lot about—and I quote—hot guys. Care to share how that’s going for you?”
After giving up on finding what I’d ordered on her menu, she started on her second cup of coffee.
“Not great, but I’ve decided to cut back. That’s how I know this whole act you’re playing isn’t real. You don’t have to do the whole sweet, interested, take-the-girl-to-a-Waffle-House bit. Guys like you get what they want without the whole production. Besides, you’re in luck because I want what you do.”
I was partly offended that she thought I was such a dick, and partially doing high-fives in my head because—you know—she thought I was hot. Plus, she wanted to do what she thought I wanted to do and I desperately wanted to know in detail what that was.
Making sure to use the right pronoun, I said, “They don’t always get what they want.”
She gathered her hair to one side, twisted it together, then put it behind her back. “I left the bar with you, didn’t I?”
It was a good point, which opened another door for me. “Why did you leave with me?” If she was done with guys like me, why was she so interested? It didn’t add up.
Dana sat back in her seat and drew a deep breath. “Because I want to have sex with you too.”
Dear God, those words did something to me, and I had to shake my head to file them away before I jumped her fine ass right there in the diner. My blood raced through my veins.
Dana Rogers was proving to be different and completely unexpected. So much so, that every experience I’d had with the opposite sex was, one by one, being proven wrong. How was I supposed to argue that I didn’t want to bang her brains out when I really did? It was confusing as shit.
Was there a glitch in the Matrix?
She sipped from her mug, and without looking at me, added, “Why else would you be doing all this?”
I didn’t want to sound defensive, because really I wasn’t. Still, I wanted to know why she had such a rude image of me. “Exactly. If that’s all I want, then why didn’t I just take you back to my place?”
“Yeah, that kind of stumped me too.” Her slim fingers unwrapped a bundle of silverware, and she placed the paper napkin on her lap. “I think you’re a good guy. So maybe you just didn’t want to fuck a drunk girl?” Her voice rose at the end signaling she was guessing.
God, was she right about me? I’d never been the type of guy to hook up with a woman who was wasted. Ultimately, that was correct, but she had my intentions all wrong.
“Are you that drunk?” I asked, reaching for a defense.
“No. The Captain and I are friends. We go way back. I’m usually cool as long as I don’t do shots. I can’t handle them. I get sick. If I stick to rum, I’ll get buzzed, but I know my limit.” She perked up, seemingly having a new notion. “Wait. Are you drunk? Is that why we’re here? Are you trying to sober up?”
I’d had too much to drive. Sure. Too much to fuck? No way.
“I know what you’re getting at, and I’m not drunk, but I should eat before I drive.”
Carrying two dishes piled high, Calvie-Jay said, “Two hot, all the way waffles. One half and half.” He sat our plates in the right spots, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. “Need anything else?”
I answered, “I’m good.”
“No, thank you,” she mumbled, staring pie-eyed at her plate. “What in the fresh hell is this?”
I chuckled, but my stomach growled louder, smelling the heaping plate of food.
She poked her strange concoction. “What did I get myself into?” Her hands lifted to sit on top of her head. “Holy shit.”
Admittedly, it was a bizarre mixture and a lot to process the first time. When she finally looked at me, I took pity.
“Okay, so you’ve got a waffle—the best waffle, in my opinion.” I ran through house slang for the ingredients as I saw them. “It’s covered, peppered, diced, caped, smothered, chunked, country, and topped. Basically, the all the way hash browns, except on a waffle.”
She laughed heartily, and I didn’t want her to stop, so I explained more. “That’s gravy, chili, ham, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, jalapeno, and cheese.”
“…and a waffle in a pear tree,” she sang.
I chuckled and explained, “I got mine all together, but I ordered yours half and half. Gravy on one side, chili on the other. Just in case.”
“In case of what?” She held her forehead with her small hand as she poked and studied the monster before her.
“In case you’re picky,” I teased. Aside from the part where she thought I was a misogynistic prick, it was a great time.
She didn’t freak out too much, which was noble. My beautiful companion was cautious but didn’t shy away. Before her first bite, she waged, “If I don’t like this, then you owe me one. Remember, you took that bet.”
“I did.” Preparing to dig in, I readied my fork. “You haven’t even tried it yet. Give it a chance.”
She watched as I cut into one lane of my waffle, loaded up, and then took the always epic, inaugural bite.
“Here goes nothing,” she alleged, taking a section from the gravy side of her plate.
We held eye contact while she chewed. She went back for more, next taking a heaping forkful from the chili side. Then she dug into the center.
Dana gave nothing away, and I ate quietly.
“Why the waffle instead of hash browns?” she asked a few minutes later after getting a drink. I wasn’t sure how well she liked my choice.
I wiped my mouth. “Well, I love the waffles and the all the way, but when I ordered waffles and hash browns all the way, it was too much food. So one time, I asked if they could make me an all the way waffle, and they did.”
While I ate more, she looked around. One of the coolest parts of the Waffle House was watching the cooks behind the counter shout and prepare the orders. I tried not to study her, tried not staring too long each time my eyes landed on her, but who knows if I was successful or not. She was so damn easy to look at.
Finally, she smiled, but it turned into a slow, relaxed laugh as she shook her head at me.
“So, Rum-punzel, how did you like going all the way?”
I was half being a shit, using the double entendre cheaply, but I was half actually curious too. Not only had I never brought a date to one of my favorite places, but no one outside of my inner circle knew about my weirdest guilty pleasure.
“The name’s Dana, and, sadly for you, you owe me one.” Her grin was radiant which didn’t support her negative review. “And you’ve got cheese on your lip,” she added. Then she showed me where to hunt for it by swiping her tongue over the corner of her mouth.
I hadn’t won the bet, but that damn mouth of hers made the loss bittersweet.
Okay. Mostly sweet.