Jason

 

 

Her face was the last thing I expected to see in this forlorn place that can hardly be considered a town. What the hell is she doing here?

From the looks of it, she's asking herself the same question when she sees me sitting at the counter. She's wearing a cute little red waitress uniform with a red-and-white checkered pattern apron. The red of her outfit matches the red of her lipstick - and it makes my heart beat faster.

"Are you following me?" she snaps. She places her hands on her hips and plants herself across the counter from me.

"Jesus," I say, forcing out an irritated sigh as I lower my eyes and rub at my temples. Who the fuck does she think she is?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She sounds tense and on edge, as if she was afraid of me or something.

"I could ask you the same question," I retort, lifting my eyes up to meet hers, which are dancing with fury.

She huffs indignantly. "I live here. I work here."

Well, that's obvious enough.

"You, on the other hand, have no business being here," she adds. "And if you’re because of that damned, shirt then-"

I cut her off. "I admire your confidence, but trust me, I'm not here because of you or because of my shirt. I don't even want to be here, okay?"

Our eyes lock onto each other, and she's pressing her lips together as if to force herself from speaking. She crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively and juts her chin forward.

"Then why are you here?" I can't help but notice the foreign accent creeping into her words as she gets worked up. Her words are clipped, and when she says 'then,' it sounds more like 'zen'. She said she lives here, but based on how she talks, I assume that hasn't always been the case.

I let out another pent-up sigh. This can't be fucking happening. Last night was rough enough. All I wanted right now was to warm up, get a cup of coffee, some food, and a decent Wi-Fi connection to do some research. The connection out here is a joke. I've been driving in a blinding snowstorm for hours, hardly able to see the road because of the damn snow, and I haven’t been able to get any further information about whether or not the weather conditions are about to change because my phone's reception is so bad.

"To be honest, I'm kind of stranded," I confess. Her face doesn't betray the slightest hint of empathy or curiosity, but I continue talking nonetheless.

"My flight got canceled, all flights did actually. I mean, not that there would have been a way to get to the airport in the first place because the road was closed, but I have to get back to New York."

"So you... decided to drive?" she asks, failing to withhold a chuckle and raising her one eyebrow condescendingly.

I nod. "It was no problem renting a car, and I figured the roads would be in better shape the farther south I drove."

She laughs out loud then, throwing her head back and holding her stomach. It would be cute, if she wasn't laughing at me.

"Are you fucking stupid?" she blurts out, snorting. "I mean, didn't you listen to the forecast? How could you even consider driving in this weather?"

I grind my teeth to keep myself from yelling at her. She's impertinent and disrespectful, and I wish I could bend her over this counter and spank the hell out of that pretty ass. I bet the marks would bloom brilliantly on her fair skin.

I wonder if she'd like to be spanked, if that's something she's ever fantasized about.

She leans forward then, her eyes seeking out mine. She’s supporting herself on her elbows on top of the counter, and I don’t let my surprise at her sudden proximity show. She's so close that I can smell her perfume. Citrusy, subtle, and fresh.

"It's almost a three-hour drive from the convention venue to here," she says, her tone more sympathetic than before. "You must have left at like four in the morning!"

When she says 'three' it sounds more like 'sree', but ever so slightly. It's hard to deny that her accent allures me. I've never had a foreign girl.

I shake my head. "Not exactly. I left last night, before midnight."

Her eyes grow wide, and her mouth opens and forms a little O.

"Damn," she exclaims. "You drove all night?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly go full speed," I say, gesturing toward the window. "That damn blizzard out there didn't let up the entire night, and I had no idea where I was going."

I drove through the night and stopped in the early morning, but only when I realized I had no other choice. There was a gas station that saved my ass, because I could fill up my car, and the attendant informed me that the next town was about ten miles ahead. The guy never specified the size of the town, but at least it held a promise for some warm food and maybe even a place to rest. Even I have to admit at this point that it would be stupid to continue driving.

She laughs. "Well, as I've mentioned, driving in this weather may not have been your smartest idea."

"Maybe," I admit. Now I place my elbows on the counter and lean forward, my face so close to hers that our noses almost touch. She doesn't back off, much to my surprise.

"What's your plan now?" she asks. "It took you close to eight hours to get here. At this rate, it will take at least another full day to get to New York."

"For now, I'd like something to eat," I tell her. "And some coffee, if you don't mind."

"Coffee isn't ready yet," she replies, but her words are quickly refuted.

"Sure it is!" an elderly lady calls out from somewhere in the back. She's short and stout, with grey hair, wrinkles, and thick glasses perched on her nose. She looks like the epitome of a good-hearted grandma and the way she looks at the waitress girl makes me wonder if they're actually related.

"I just got the first pot started," she says, coming to a halt next to the girl and handing me a laminated menu.

"You're not from here," she says, stating the obvious.

I throw her a polite smile. "No, just traveling through."

The girl scoffs. "He thinks he can make it to New York."

She looks at the older lady with an amused smile on her face, but when she turns to me and her expression turns somewhat condescending. I hate it when people look at me like that.

"Today?" the older woman asks, arching her eyebrows in surprise. "With all due respect, sir, I hardly think that'll be possible. The blizzard is not supposed to end any time soon. They’re advising people to stay off the roads! It's life-threatening!"

I study her, pondering my words. They don't understand. Life is slow in rural areas like this one, they don't know what it's like to have pressing matters, appointments and duties that cannot wait. Due to my fucked-up phone reception, I couldn't even get a hold of my father to let him know I'm on my way. I talked to him last night, when I was still at the hotel trying to figure out if there was any way for me to get back to New York that same night. He tried to assure me that it would be okay if I took an extra day and to stay put. I had already checked out of my room, and I was too stubborn to concede. The snow was bad last night, but I didn't expect it to get even worse over the course of the next few hours.

I feel like a fucking fool right now.

"I need to get to New York," I repeat, knowing how stupid I must sound.

Both of them are visibly amused at my words, and they shake their heads in perfect harmony.

"Lena, get some coffee for our guest," the older woman says, before she points at the menu before. "And you need to get some food in you. You're not thinking straight, young man."

I glare at her, while the girl, Lena, giggles as she turns around to fetch some coffee for me.

I can't believe my fucking luck. Out of all places, why did I have to end up here?

My stomach growls, reminding me that I didn't have anything to eat since dinner last night, and I didn't eat a lot then either because I was caught up in so many conversations. My presentation went well, so well in fact, that it drew a lot of people's attention. I had them coming up to me left and right during the coffee breaks and dinner. Some of them worked with my father before and only came to tell me that they have great confidence in me as his successor. It was important for me to hear such words, as that's kind of what this whole convention was about, proving myself, making my father proud - and securing my position as his heir. That has always been my goal, my entire life has been designed for this, but it was never guaranteed that I'd actually succeed, especially not at this young age and with a new affiliated firm under my belt.

I was elated, high on endorphins and too distracted to keep an eye on the weather and my travel plans. People were talking about it, but I was too preoccupied to worry about it.

Until it was time to head out to the airport, and I was informed that not only would I not be able to get there, but there also were no flights arriving or departing in the foreseeable future. I know some of the other attendees decided to stay another day, but I'd already checked out of my room and was ready to go. So fucking ready to leave.

And now I'm sitting here, in a small town with the gloomy name Greymeadow, being mocked by the same girl I yelled at like an idiot two days ago after she stumbled into my arms and dropped a box of sandwiches.

"I'll have the bacon, eggs, and homefries," I tell the old lady, who's still standing in front of me, taking my order without scribbling it down. "Eggs scrambled."

"Some toast with that?" she asks.

I nod. "That would be great."

"Butter?"

I nod again, feeling oddly defeated. What the fuck am I going to do? I'm trapped here, literally trapped.

"Is there a hotel nearby?" I ask, as the older lady turns her back to me and is about to walk back to the kitchen.

She stops and looks at me with an expression that appears kind of lost. Then, she slowly shakes her head.

"No, sir," she says. "There are some cottages down the road, but they're closed this time of year."

The swinging doors to the kitchen open noisily as Lena comes back to the front, carrying a mug and a glass carafe filled to the brim with freshly brewed coffee. The smell alone helps to lift my spirits, despite the unpromising position I find myself in.

The older lady casts me a pitying look before she makes her way back to the kitchen, leaving me alone with Lena, who places the mug in front of me and pours steaming hot coffee into it.

"Well, guess I'm kind of fucked," I say absentmindedly.

She eyes me shyly. "I guess so. Glad I only worked there on day one of the conference. Even then it was hard to get back here, took me forever."

"More than eight hours?" I ask.

She chuckles and shakes her head. "No. But only a few people would be stupid enough to drive in this kind of weather."

She puts the carafe down and looks at me. "You should have stayed at your hotel and ridden it out there."

"Too late for that."

She nods. "True. Milk and sugar?"

I shake my head. "Black is fine."

"Okay," she says, picking up the carafe again. "Breakfast will be right out."

And with no further ado, she turns around and walks away, swinging her delicious hips a little too much for me to think it's not on purpose.

She knows I'm watching her, and if my instincts are right – and they usually are – she’s not immune to my allure.