Charlotte
I sighed as I looked in the bathroom mirror. No matter how much I tugged at the sides of my too-snug pink waitress uniform, nothing was going to hide the fact the cotton material clung to my waist and hips. Not that Mindy, the wife of the diner’s owner, minded. In fact, she’s the one who handed me the uniform on my first day three weeks ago and stated the tight fit was on purpose.
I pursed my lips as I inspected my reflection. The uniform certainly showcased my full curves. Since I wasn’t going for the total whore look, I kept my makeup light, sported small gold-toned hoop earrings, and styled my long blonde hair up in a ponytail decorated with a thin pink ribbon. Sure, the ribbon was girlie, but hey, I loved adding little touches that made me feel good about myself. Besides, it cost next to nothing. Another bonus.
A loud thump at the bathroom door made me jump. “You nearly finished in there?” Wyatt, my cousin, yelled through the thin wood.
“Sure,” I swiped on another coat of pink lip gloss and gathered up my meager collection of makeup into the small zippered bag. “Sorry, I thought you were still asleep.”
Wasn’t he always at ten in the morning, usually from the effects of alcohol? Good thing he worked from home. IT programming, he’d said.
As soon as the thoughts entered my head, shame filled me like a lead weight in my belly. After mom’s funeral, Wyatt had opened his home to me, inviting me to move from my tiny apartment in Chicago to his home in Longreach, Texas. His dad, my mom’s brother and an uncle I had hardly known, had passed years ago. There was nothing tying him to me. I should be grateful. I closed my eyes for a second and drew a deep breath. I was grateful. I just…missed mom.
My mom.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, but nothing could clear the image of Mom, too thin, and oh so frail in that hospital bed, from my mind. Each daily visit had ripped my heart in two as my desperate need to hold on to her fought against wanting her suffering to end. And end it did, just over a month ago.
Grief engulfed me, the full force of my loss hitting like a sucker punch to my belly. I gritted my teeth. No. No, I wasn’t going to let myself drown in sadness. Not today. I had to keep on going. Keep working. Keep…trying, because life wasn’t about to send me a bunch of roses for just drawing breath.
After all, that’s what the move had been all about, wasn’t it? A new start. A chance to get to know Wyatt—my only family—on his turf.
Hey, at twenty-one I had so much time ahead of me to see where I wanted to go in life. My gaze dropped to the baby pink uniform, with its tight fit and too-short hemline. Buck’s Diner was just my starting point. All I needed was to remind myself to work hard and have big dreams.
“Charlie, you alive in there?”
I started and rushed to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry.” Apologies made, I swept my gaze over Wyatt. Tall-ish and of medium build, his shaggy brown hair needed washing, and his hazel eyes were slightly red. Maybe more tired than hung over? Wearing track pants and a creased white t-shirt, he looked rumpled and out of sorts. He’d been out until late and then worked in the third bedroom he called his home office until well after I’d gone to bed. I eased past him. No scent of alcohol. “I’m headed off to the diner. Will you be cooking dinner?” It was his turn, but this was Wyatt, and he often lost track of time. “I can get some fresh ingredients and make us a salad to have with the pork chops, if you want?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his face distractedly as he entered the bathroom. “Yeah, sure. Salad. Whatever.” Opening up the bathroom cabinet, he grabbed a bottle of Tylenol. “When’s your shift end?” Wyatt frowned at me as if I’d kept that information secret.
“Four.” The same every workday. Six-hour shifts, four times a week was all I could get. Hopefully, Mindy would give me more work in the future. I studied Wyatt a little closer. His eyes were red but he had darker circles under them. Definitely no sleep. “Are you okay? You look tired.”
His dry laugh was short. “I’m fine.” When he met my gaze, he shrugged. “Just busy and tired. I’ll be better after a shower.” With a brusque nod, he closed the door.
The cheap varnished grain of the door filled my gaze.
Okay then.
I turned to walk back to my room when the bathroom door opened.
“Charlie.” Wyatt sighed. “Look, I’m just under a lot of pressure right now. Big contract. I just need—” He broke off and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “I just need you to chill for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be in my office. A lot. But I may need to go out, so don’t borrow the truck without letting me know.” His normally easygoing tone had disappeared, replaced by one more cautious, bordering on anxious-sounding.
“Sure thing.” I gave him a tentative smile. Having never seen him this rattled before, the last thing I wanted was to pile any worries onto his shoulders. “I’ve got lots of books on my e-reader and the AC is working, so I’m happy.” And I was. My TBR list of romances was ginormous. “Do whatever you need to get the job done.”
Wyatt’s smile was fleeting, and I swear it looked bittersweet the way his mouth turned down. “Right.” Seeing him purposely avert his gaze before he turned away spurred a niggle of worry inside me.
The sound of the news on the radio in the kitchen reminded me I had more urgent priorities. I couldn’t afford to be late for work. Dashing to my bedroom, I slung on my white canvas sneakers, grabbed my tote, and walked the three blocks to the diner. One thing to be said for a small town, you could walk almost anywhere.
Not that there was much to see and do in Longreach. The summer days were damned hot, and the town boasted one diner, two bars and a few small shops, including the grocers. Maybe I would catch the daily bus to the next town and check out the mall. There were a few cool shops there and a town library close by I’d spied when Wyatt had given me the grand tour of my new surroundings.
We hadn’t been out anywhere together since, except last Friday night when he took me to Beer N’ Ribs, his favorite of the two bars. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure sometimes if Wyatt remembered I was around. Not like I was some abandoned relative, but more like he just stayed in his office so much. Even kept the door to the room locked when he wasn’t in there.
By the time I got to work, the summer heat had already started roasting the sidewalks. Customers came and went as I worked through my morning. The three of us girls waiting tables were kept busy enough. At one point, I barely managed not to pour hot coffee over a guy who felt it necessary to accidently brush his hand over my bottom. My glare only seemed to make him laugh all the more.
Three hours later, I sighed as I placed the customer’s order on the ledge of the cutout opening to the diner’s kitchen. The smell of hot oil from the deep fryer seemed to invade the space, coating everything like a thick blanket, smothering any fresh air. Suffocating a person by the second. Exactly how I felt coming to work here each day. With a soft snort, I shook my head. Waitressing paid the bills, and I was in no position to be picky about how I earned a living.
With a smile, I nodded at the cook, Pedro, who had been kind to me in the three weeks since I’d started at Buck’s Diner. His friendship had been like a giant hug amidst the loneliness of being new in town. Not that the other staff here had been mean, just…distant. They weren’t interested in making friends or getting to know me. My coworkers were here for the fabulous minimum wage and no benefits just as I was. Jobs in the small town were scarce, and people stayed in those few jobs until they were carried out feet first or in the unlikely event they found something better.
Pedro set a plate of burger and fries on the ledge and tapped the bell. “You’re up, Sandy,” he called to the waitress covering the tables and booths to the right of the counter. His warm brown gaze landed on me. “How’s it goin’, Charlie?” He flashed a grin, and I smiled back.
“I’m doing good, Pedro. Just wondering if I’ll spend my tips on a flight to Paris or buy a new Corvette.”
His eyes lit up. “Choose the ’Vette, chica, and we can drive right outta here.” The cook winked as he slung a towel over his shoulder before turning away.
I couldn’t help but giggle. Only a couple of inches taller than my five foot four, what Pedro lacked in height he made up for in charm and personality.
The sounds of cutlery scratching plates and conversation echoed behind me as I grabbed a new order pad and shoved it in the pocket of my small white apron. The lunchtime rush seemed never ending today, even in a place as run down as Buck’s. Turning and looking past the customers sitting at the front counter, my gaze swept over the two rows of white Formica tables, their surfaces worn to a flat dullness from decades of use. The line of booths against the front window was no better with the scratched red vinyl seating. Yet most spaces were filled with hungry customers. No doubt due to the fact Buck’s was the only diner in town.
Mindy cast me a sour glance as she rushed up with another order. Oops. No lingering. Not that I was lazy. There was a time I’d been enrolled in community college studying graphic design and still managed a waitressing job back in Chicago. But that was before…well, before everything changed.
I hustled past the still glowering Mindy and headed toward my section on the left side of the counter.
Scanning the tables and booths as I walked down, I noticed a couple of diners needed their coffee refilled. Grabbing a coffee pot, I made sure my customers were happy.
The bell above the diner’s entry rang, but I was facing away, chatting with a sweet elderly couple who sat in my section every day for their tuna melt lunch. I heard several people walk past me as I finished topping off Doris and Arthur’s mugs of coffee. A quick scan to my left showed a group of men had claimed the last booth at the end. With a quick smile to my favorite lunchtime couple, I returned the coffee pot to the warmer and walked back toward the booth.
Grabbing the order pad from my apron pocket, I looked down and scribbled the booth’s number, having to do it twice as the pen’s ink ran out. Dammit. Another annoyance to add to my day.
Six feet from the booth, I glanced up.
And froze.
Four men sat in the booth. Two each side. All big, muscled and wearing jeans and dark tops. Some of them had tattoos. As a group, they had an air of danger about them that had a few of the locals taking quick glances before just as quickly looking away.
But it was the guy on the end facing me who stole my attention.
Hard espresso brown eyes in a tanned face stared right at me. His gaze was cool, assessing, like he was cataloguing every tiny detail about me. Something about the confident way he held himself, the way he stood out against the other men at the table, told me he was a leader.
I wanted to step back, to hide from the tantalizing sense of danger mixed with excitement. But my legs failed to move. All I could do was hold my breath under his unyielding attention.
The snug fit of his black t-shirt emphasized the wide expanse of his chest, and the short sleeves revealed tattoos on both of his muscled arms. A day’s worth of heavy stubble on his lower face accentuated his high cheekbones and square jaw. His dark hair was cut short, and the neat no-nonsense look matched the military type watch worn on his left wrist.
There was nothing overtly flashy about this man. He didn’t need to be when every part of him exuded masculine confidence.
I risked moving my gaze back to his face and those dark eyes of his flashed with…something—not anger, more a…God, I couldn’t believe I was thinking this, but that was it, a possessiveness. His gaze looked possessive. But how could that be? We’d only just seen each other for the first time.
An unnerving feeling fluttered in my belly.
Even more unsettling, the urge to tempt the beast and take a step closer was dangerously strong.
My uniform, already snug, now felt like the material was constricting my body, especially over my breasts. I was acutely aware of the tingle in my nipples and didn’t dare risk looking down to see if their outline showed against my bra and the uniform.
I’d never felt such a rush at the sight of a man before; the kind of deep thrill that makes you feel so alive and scared at the same time.
A movement of one of the his companions forced me to glance across the booth and encounter the contemplative stares of the other men, their menus opened in front of them.
Cursing as I felt my blush heat my cheeks, I forced myself to take the last three steps to the booth. Holy heck, I needed to get a grip.
“Hey there.” I glanced around, settling my gaze on the guy with shaggy blonde hair and bad boy movie star looks that won hearts everywhere. He was also sitting directly opposite the dark-haired hottie who’d unnerved me so much, providing a clear diversion of my attention. Awesome. “What can I get you?”
The blond guy’s lips twitched, as if he’d guessed I’d purposely looked his way.
“What’s your name?” asked a deep voice from my right.
I turned, as if compelled by the commanding tone in the stranger’s voice.
His espresso-colored gaze held mine. For a second, I wanted to avoid answering him, as if telling him even that much information would make me too vulnerable in his presence. But the answer was right there on the name tag over my right breast. “Ch-Charlie.” I silently cursed the thickness in my voice. So much for confidence. I tapped the name tag as a subtle reminder he didn’t need to ask.
“Charlie.” He repeated my answer, like he was testing the name out. “Unusual name for a girl.”
“It’s short for Charlotte.” And why did I rush to tell him that? Fighting the urge to shake my head, I clicked the top of my pen as a prompt for them to give me their meal order.
“Charlotte,” he said in a low voice, as if to himself as he continued to study me, his gaze sweeping over my hair and down the length of me. “A feminine name. It suits you.”
Was it wrong I wanted to curl my toes at the sound of my somewhat old-fashioned name spoken in his deep gravel-rough voice?
“Thanks.” My reply had a breathless quality that made me cringe inwardly.
“Four burgers and fries.” The shaggy-haired blonde I’d addressed earlier grabbed the menus and handed them to me, which I shoved under one arm. “Iced tea for the drinks.” He glanced across at the man who’d rattled my cage so badly. “That okay with you, Jake?” he asked with an amused look on his handsome face.
Jake. So that was the dark haired man’s name.
I grabbed the excuse to divert my attention. Keeping my gaze fixed on the pad, I scribbled their order even though the stupid pen wasn’t working, but looking at the order pad gave me a reason to look elsewhere. “Gotcha. Won’t be long.”
As I hurried to the counter to re-write their order, I couldn’t ignore the feeling of the stranger’s—Jake’s—gaze following my every step.
And the thrill of knowing he was watching me?
Now that part I absolutely chose to ignore.