She clears her throat. “Anyway, good luck at your game this weekend. It’s against Mississippi State, right?” When I nod, she tugs at a strand of her hair. “Watch your blindside. Those guys blitz like crazy.”
I shouldn’t be surprised she knows this. She dated Ezra for years, and she obviously cared enough to pay attention to the teams he faced. “Are you going to the game? Or will you watch it on TV?”
“I, um… probably not.”
Damn. That shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
As Hazel and I walk back home a few minutes later, she skips next to me. “I love Abby and Paige.”
“I know, honey.”
I just wish there was something I could do or say to convince Abigail to be my daughter’s nanny. Because it would make Hazel’s day.
And maybe mine too.
6
ABIGAIL
“Order ten, up!” Moe calls from behind the counter.
I hustle to the other side of the diner to grab the stack of pancakes. Moe’s Diner is a greasy spoon that serves breakfast until midnight. Since we’re close to campus, this place is always busy, especially on Friday nights. It’s a cute restaurant with vintage cherry-red booths, mini-jukeboxes at all the tables, and the classic black and white checkered floor.
The only problem is the meals aren’t expensive, which is great for customers but lousy for tips. And I’m not a fan of the waitress uniform. At first, I thought this diner dress was cute, but since I tend to spill things, I wish it wasn’t pink.
“Here you go, Mr. Pearson,” I say as I slide his meal in front of him. “Do you need me to warm up your coffee?”
He runs his thumb through the top strap of his worn overalls as he smiles at his food. “Nah, I’ll never get to sleep tonight if I have more than one cup. But I need a to-go container. You know how much Essie loves her pancakes.”
Essie is his pet goat.
“Sure thing.” After I drop off the container, I double-check his order on my notepad, tear off his copy, and tuck it under the condiments. “No rush.”
As it gets later, I notice all of the cute couples walking hand in hand, and it makes me sad I’m single. Now that I know what the real Ezra Thomas is like, I’m grateful I found out the truth about him when I did, but it makes me wonder if I’ll ever find someone special.
The bell over the door rings as I’m taking another order, and internally I groan. We’re understaffed tonight. I don’t know what it is about this place, but people constantly call in sick. I’m flying solo—again—which means I’ll have to haul ass to cover all the tables. That stinks because no one gets good service, and customers take it out on me by not tipping.
Moe says he’s hired some new people who start next week. I only hope they’re reliable.
Loud male laughter makes me turn my head, and I groan again when several jocks in their black and white letterman jackets make their way to the back booth, which is a large circular table. Reluctantly, I head down there to take their order.
I scribble the table number on my notepad as I greet everyone. “Hey, guys, I’m Abby. Welcome to Moe’s. What can I get you to drink?”
“Abby. Hey.”
I look up to find Nick smiling at me. Oh, good gravy. Why the heck couldn’t Whitney show up tonight? This is her dang table, not mine. I don’t want to wait on Nick and his football friends.
It’s been two weeks since he and Hazel dropped off pizza and flowers, and I’m embarrassed about how many times I’ve thought about this man. I was good when he hated me for screwing up his bumper. Why did he have to go and be concerned about my bruises and wonky glasses?
At least I had the good sense to turn down that nanny job, though I’d much rather take care of his adorable daughter than wait tables all semester.
But the man has seen my ass and nipples, for Pete’s sake. With that thought, heat rises up my neck. Great. Now I’m blushing. For some reason, I always go as red as a fire hydrant around him.
“Hi, Nick. What would you guys like to order?”
The guy next to him leans forward and looks me up and down. “That depends. Are you on the menu?”
“Cut that shit out,” Nick says as he elbows his teammate. “Abby’s my neighbor.”
