Janie shrugged off her apology. “Darcy, this is the first time in what—six months? We’re not even busy. I think I can cut you some slack.”
“Thanks. It won’t happen again.”
At least she didn’t think it would. She couldn’t imagine Mark showing up at her door to make love with her every morning. Although the thought of that made her heat up in the best way possible.
“How was your Thanksgiving?” her boss asked.
Darcy tied on her apron and tried not to blush. “Great,” she said, hurrying toward the front of the café. Janie followed. “I’d planned on having several people over. Mostly ones with nowhere to go on the holiday. But everyone canceled on me so Mark Kincaid was my only guest.”
She grabbed a pot of coffee and quickly made a swing through the restaurant. There were only three occupied tables, along with a single man at the counter. Everyone already had food, except for one couple ready to order. She wrote their requests onto her pad, then delivered the information to the kitchen.
Janie was waiting for her back by the coffeemaker. Her long blond ponytail swished like a horse’s tail as she shook her head. “Excuse me, but did you say Mark Kincaid?”
Darcy smiled and prayed that she didn’t look guilty. “Uh-huh. He lives next door to me and he’s a regular here. I don’t see him with a lot of people so I thought he might be alone for the holiday. This time of year can be tough on people who don’t have family locally.”
Janie stared at her as if she were crazy. “So you just invited him over?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And he just accepted?”
Darcy tried to act casual. “Sure. Why wouldn’t he?”
“I don’t know. Since he moved back to Whitehorn, Mark hasn’t exactly been social.” Janie’s expression turned speculative. “Anything interesting to report?”
“Gee, he’s really nice.”
“And?”
Darcy held her gaze and shrugged. “And what? Like I said, he’s a nice guy. Kind of quiet. Hates vegetables.”
Janie laughed. “I’m not surprised. He always refuses a salad when he comes in for lunch or dinner. I didn’t know you knew him.” Her humor faded. “I’m glad he joined you for Thanksgiving. If you hadn’t invited him over, I suspect he would have been alone.”
Darcy glanced around to make sure her customers didn’t need her, then lowered her voice. “I know he doesn’t have family in town. I get the impression he doesn’t have much family anywhere.”
“Just his sister, Maddie. His parents died when he was in college.” Janie paused, as if trying to remember. “There was another relative. A great-aunt, I think. Mark took care of Maddie until he graduated from college, then his aunt took over so he could go to New York.”
Darcy tried not to read too much into the information. So Mark had taken care of his sister. They had that in common, but little else. “Where is Maddie now?”
“On the road somewhere. She’s a barrel racer and travels around to the different rodeos. She doesn’t get back here much.”
The door to the café opened and two couples entered. Darcy seated them, then took their orders. By then she had food to deliver, coffee to refill and more customers to serve. It might not be as busy as a regular workday, but she was the only waitress on duty.
She was nearly an hour into her shift when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She was in the process of buttering toast and the bread nearly slipped from her fingers. Even knowing what she was going to see, she couldn’t help turning around.
Sure enough, Mark Kincaid had just walked into the Hip Hop Café. Across the worn linoleum and a half dozen or so people, they stared at each other. There was something in his eyes—a connection built by remembered passion—that made her insides go up in flames.
Don’t go there, she warned herself. Men like him were heartbreak city. But while her head was very willing to listen to the excellent advice, the rest of her body wasn’t willing to be so cooperative.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mark slid into his usual booth. Except for the slight twinkle in his eye and the faint smile teasing the corners of his mouth, he looked completely normal. Darcy was envious. If only she felt that way. Her stomach had taken up permanent residence in her toes and her hands actually shook as she grabbed the coffeepot and made her way to his table.
“Good morning,” she mumbled, not able to meet his gaze. She poured coffee, careful not to spill. “Have you decided, or do you need a few minutes?”
“Good morning, Darcy.”
She finished pouring and forced herself to look at him. His smile broadened.
