With a name like Gusher’s?
Yeah. Point. Fucking. Made.
Shaking my head again, ignoring my vibrating phone, I opened the door, jerked my chin at Darla, the owner, then headed to my favorite booth in the back.
Actually, it wasn’t technically my favorite booth; that would have been the booth along the far back wall closest to the back window.
The booth I currently occupied was christened as the Griggs booth. The entire town knew it.
And it was comical when we all showed up, and a tourist and his family were occupying it. The family was offered free slices of pie to move. You would be stupid to turn down Darla’s pie. Well, in my mind, it was reallyhers. Even though Darla taught her how to make it.
But as for my favorite booth, again, that would be because ofher.
If I thought for even a nanosecond that I was good enough for her, I’d tell the whole family that we had another booth.
But alas, self-deprecation and all that was a fucking thing.
And speaking of, as to why this was the best diner in three counties, Harlee, Talia’s best friend, came by, winked, and sat down with a glass of Coke filled to the brim with little ice cubes.
I winked back, “Thanks, Harlee Belle.”
I had just taken a sip of my Coke, catching a few ice cubes and loving the little crunch I got when I bit into them, when I heard it.
My head lifted, my eyes scanned, and I latched onto the fucker who just said, “Damn. Catch the legs on that one.”
Blue polo, khaki shorts, tennis shoes... tourist.
My eyes moved to where the man was looking, and when I saw it was at Harlee, my jaw clenched.
Harlee no doubt heard what the man said, caught my eyes, and rolled her own.
I shook my head, then lifted my brow.
She knew what I was silently asking.
If she wanted me to get up, walk over there, and slam his face into the top of the table.
Because it sure as fuck wasn’t the first time. And when it came to her, it wouldn’t be last.
She grinned, then shook her head.
I was half tempted to blow a raspberry at her. Instead, I lifted my chin, but I was ready and on standby.
I sat there watching the street while still keeping an eye on that guy as Harlee Belle came back to me, and smiled, “You want your usual?”
I grinned as I looked up at her.
Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a messy knot. The same as it always was while she was working at the diner.
The very first time she worked a shift here to help her parents, who owned the place, customers were pulling long strands of blonde hair from their pies.
To say she had been embarrassed was an understatement.
Everyone still gives her shit for it, but it was hilarious.
And as I took in her shining mossy-oak-colored eyes, I saw the twinkle in them.
She was no doubt thinking the same thing.
