* * *

* * *

The next day, the diner was packed. Every single chair, booth, and stool was filled. There were even a couple of guys standing off to one side, leaning against the wall, eating their burgers.

And every one of the people in those seats turned to look at Ava as she stepped through the front door.

Parker almost dropped the plate he was holding.

Holy hell.

He supposed that she thought she was dressed for fruit picking. Her hair, normally stick straight and sleek, was now pulled back into a pony tail. That alone was strangely sexy. Seeing her in a new way. A less polished way, he supposed. She also had sunglasses propped on top of her head. The bright red rims matched the t-shirt she wore. He’d also never seen her in a t-shirt. She’d worn a hoodie for the game night she and her sisters had hosted at their house about a month ago. That, too, had been surprisingly sexy. Seeing her let go a little. But this… well, this t-shirt was her sister, Cori’s. It had to be. It was bright red, nice and fitted to her curves, and read In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

That didn’t fit Ava at all. But the shirt…it fit a little too well.

And then there were the jeans. He had never seen her in blue jeans. He’d wanted to. In his mind, that was going to be a sign that she was trying to fit in to small town life and that she was going to figure out how to dress for function and comfort rather than the I’ll-take-over-your-company-make-a-million-dollars-by-lunch-and-look-hot-as-hell-while-doing-it look she usually had going.

But the jeans hugging Ava’s hips, ass, and long legs were making his jeans fit a lot less comfortably, and the only functions he could come up with her were inappropriate, probably sexist, and involved smudging the lipstick that matched her sunglasses and t-shirt perfectly.

And her heels.

His eyes finally made it past the slim-fitting denim to her feet. And these shoes, if nothing else, reminded him of exactly who Ava Carmichael was. The three-inch red heels weren’t practical for fruit picking in the least. They weren’t practical for much of anything around Bliss, as a matter of fact.

But he didn’t want her to take them off.

Damn, he’d never been a shoe guy before. He was fairly certain he’d never noticed what his dates wore on their feet. But with Ava Carmichael, her heels were as much a part of her as the long blonde hair and the I’m-out-of-your-league attitude.

The silence in the diner stretched, all eyes on her, until she smiled and focused on him.

“It’s twelve fifty-five.”

That’s all she said, looking straight at Parker, but several people turned back to their plates and started eating faster.

“Boss is here,” Mark Johnson commented to Parker.

“She the boss of you everywhere?” Don Arnold asked under the diner noise so that only Parker, Mark, and Brian Watson heard.

“I’d let her tell me what to do,” Brian agreed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Parker told them. But it didn’t have a lot of force behind it. He’d expected to get crap about Ava being his boss at the pie shop. And lots of waggled eyebrows and innuendo about the time they spent together.

He didn’t care that everyone was enjoying the idea of Ava as his boss. Even outside of the diner. He didn’t get too worried about what people thought of him in general. The people here knew him. He’d been the same guy for the past fifteen years and he had no plans to change.

So there was no way anyone here actually thought that he was going to get all worked up about Ava. No way they really thought that he was going to suddenly change all of his habits or shirk his responsibilities even for a chance to peel those blue jeans off of her. So what if he was closing for a couple of hours this afternoon. That was supposed to be how this worked every day. Working six a.m. to six p.m. every single day in a little town where everything else was open eight to five left little time for chores at his farm, changing the oil in his truck, errands like picking up a new phone charger, or even stopping at the post office.

And frankly, no one needed a burger at three in the afternoon. He supposed some might say that was just his opinion, but truthfully, it was right. He didn’t like the whole breakfast-for-dinner idea either, where people had pancakes and eggs for dinner. Don’t even get him started on brunch. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were three distinct meals that each had their own special tastes and style. In his diner, breakfast ended at nine o’clock, lunch ended at one, and dinner ended at six and that was perfectly reasonable. And had been the schedule for twelve years now. Ever since Parker had taken over.

However, he did care that their teasing words about how Ava bossed him around did nothing to get his mind away from the idea of her telling him exactly what she liked—how hard, how fast, and how long.

“I’m suddenly in the mood for fruit pie,” Mark added.

Parker gave him a stern look. “Knock it off.”

It was only because he didn’t need his mind wandering to the idea of Ava with pie filling spread all over her…

Fuck.

Parker worked on not reacting. And not moving out from behind the counter that was blocking the erection that was suddenly pressing insistently against his fly.

But he was torn between laughing and rolling his eyes as she crossed the diner, the red purse swinging from her arm, her heels clicking on his tile like some kind of fucking countdown clock ticking away. He simply reached behind the counter and started handing out to go boxes. Which people filled immediately.

This damned town. He’d been trying to get people out of the diner at one p.m. every day for the past twelve years. But the door rarely closed behind the last customer until at least a quarter after. And all Ava had to do was strut in here in her kick-ass red heels and mention the time.

Of course, no one was shoveling their fries in because they were scared of her. It was because they all wanted Parker to get lucky. It should probably be disturbing to think that the entire town was this interested in him getting laid. But he was used to these people being in his business—his actual business and his personal business—and this was exactly where he wanted their minds to be right now.

He didn’t respond to Ava as she leaned a hip against the counter next to the cash register, watching as people reached for their wallets. As if she was overseeing her subjects.

Amazingly, the door bumped shut behind the last customer at 1:03 p.m.

Ava hadn’t even blinked as people told her to have a good time and that they were happy she was getting Parker out of the diner for a while and to enjoy the fruit picking. If she’d noticed the way they said “fruit picking”, she didn’t show it. She’d smiled, nodded, and said goodbye sweetly to everyone who had spoken to her.

After they were gone, she crossed back to the door, turned the lock and flipped the CLOSED sign around as if it was her diner, her door and her sign.