When was the last time I ate?
Krew gave me another strange glance over his shoulder before he turned his attention to the short, rail-thin, fifty-something waitress heading our way. In cropped jeans, a tight t-shirt with the diner’s logo stretched across her ample chest, and heavily lined eyes, her attempt to look younger was a sad failure.
She approached us both with a huge smile, her breasts jutted out, but her eyes were only on Krew.
“Sit wherever you like, handsome,” she greeted, her husky voice filled with appreciation as her eyes roved over Krew’s body like she had every right to.
I wanted to pull out my knife and dig her eyes out for staring at my?—
Jesus. Fucking get a grip.
“Right here is fine. Thanks,” Krew said as he pointed to the nearest booth and slid onto the bench facing the back of the diner.
I sat across from him, my eyes pinned the waitress like she was a bug. She ignored me, and passed the two menus to Krew.
“What would you like to drink, sweetie?” the waitress asked as she purposefully stepped closer to Krew’s side of the booth as if I wasn’t even there.
A low growl seeped pass my lips, like I was some damn protective animal. She finally glanced at me, but her mouth stayed shut.
Then Krew’s warm hand covered mine, shifting my attention to him. He turned my palm up and entwined our fingers, blatantly displaying where he stood with me, and to the waitress.
A small smile slid across his face, and there was desire in his eyes. I wanted to reach over, clasp my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. Show him what he’d been missing all these years.
“How about two coffees, and we need a minute to decide on the food,” Krew said to the waitress.
“Oh—sure,” she chirped in surprise. I smirked as her wide, black-ringed eyes glared down at our joined hands. A frown creased her face before she spun around and strode off.
“Still the same old Decker,” Krew said, pulling his hand away. I wanted to snatch it back, but I tucked my hand under the table instead. I didn’t trust myself around Krew.
“What does that mean?”
“Still very possessive,” he uttered with a soft chuckle.
I skewered him with a sneer before glancing down at the menu Krew slid over to me. I opened it, trying to wrangle in my annoyance.
A full minute passed before Krew said, “I thought about you and Regi all the time, especially when I was in… jail.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, other than “I’m sorry,” but that didn’t seem appropriate. I settled for, “Yeah. It was hard for all of us… for me… Krew?—”
I wasn’t able to finish my confession, because the damn waitress was back with two cups of coffee, a bowl of creamers, and another bowl of sugar options. She dropped the items onto the middle of the table before she stomped away. The woman didn’t give a crap that the hot liquid splashed onto the Formica top.
Without a word, Krew snagged some napkins from the dispenser and wiped up the mess. I would have left that shit for the bitch to clean up.
“There goes her tip,” Krew muttered under his breath, which made me smile.
“So what are you ordering?” I asked, chickening out on my declaration of how much I had missed him and Regina. Or how my chest hollowed out every time I thought about them being together.
“Not sure yet,” he said.
I lifted the coffee to my lips, took a sip, and glanced up—Christ, those damn dimples. Krew stared at the menu, smirking without realizing it.
I dropped my eyes to the menu in front of me—and immediately regretted it. A grotesque photo of a meatloaf dinner stared back at me, gray and lumpy. I grimaced.
Except, the real distraction was across the table. I’d struggled to control myself around this man, and clearly, not much had changed.
Krew was smirking again—that infuriating, cocky little curve at the corner of his mouth. I wanted to wipe it off with a kiss he’d never forget. Instead, I glued myself to the chair and forced my eyes back to the menu, pretending to care about the list of entrees.
I slapped the menu down on the table. “I know what I want.”
