He has a point. “Yeah. I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna drive home if this doesn’t let up soon.”
“I’m happy to drive you if you’re nervous in this weather, and then I can just get an Uber from your place.”
He offered to drive me home.
Because of the storm.
Why is the thought of him coming home with me incredibly appealing?
Chapter 3
Tate
It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking, but before she responds a loud female voice calls out from the back.
“Summer? You here?”
“Out front, Dolly!” she yells before turning to me. “That’s my boss.”
“God damn summer storms.” A tall woman with a bleach blonde cascade of wiry curls around her head comes bustling up to the counter.
“Electricity’s been out over an hour,” Summer tells her. Then she looks at me. “Tate, this is the owner of the diner, Dolly Harris. Dolly, this is Tate. His band’s tour bus broke down and they’ve been riding out the storm here.”
Dolly smiles. “Nice to meet you, Tate.” She looks down at where I’m in the middle of rolling silverware. “I see Summer put you to work.”
I wink. “It was all me. Any excuse to talk to a pretty girl.”
Dolly throws back her head and laughs. “I like a man who goes after what he wants.”
“I’m right here!” Summer interjects. “Why are you talking about me like I’m not?”
“I just want to make sure I don’t get you in trouble with your boss,” I say playfully.
Dolly snorts. “It’ll take a lot more than flirting with a cute guy to get Summer in trouble.”
“You think I’m cute?” I tease.
Dolly grins. “And I’d bet my last dollar that is not the first time you’ve heard that.”
A bell jingles, indicating that someone has come in. Dolly looks up. “We’re closed, boys,” she says grimly.
After some grumbling, they shuffle back out into the rain.
“Any idea when this is supposed to stop?” Summer asks.
“The Weather Channel says it’ll slow down around seven,” Dolly replies.
“Should we tell Sylvie and Tina not to come in since we don’t have power?” Summer asks.
“I’ll do that now,” Dolly says, heading into the back.
“This was probably a long night for you,” I say once we’re alone again.
“It was,” Summer agrees. “I’ve been here since three in the afternoon. I was only supposed to work the dinner shift.”
“Oh, you must be exhausted.”
“A little,” she smiles. “I’m kind of a night owl anyway and Sundays and Mondays are typically my days off.”
