“I’m not asking you out on a date,” he laughs. “Just for a break.”
I shake my head and look up at the cold blue sky. Yeah, I need a break too. It might actually do me some good. “Go on, then, get some lunch. I’ll grab something around here and circle back in about an hour.”
“Got ya,” Finn hangs up and I chew on my tongue. There are a hundred places to eat around here, but I can only think of going to one.
Chelly’s.
I wonder if Nia’s working again today. She must be. A young woman like that with med school debt? She’ll need every penny she can scrape together just to get by.
Maybe I’ll give her a generous tip.
Before I can even fully realize what I’m doing, my hand is pulling open the front door to the understated diner.
Someone’s already repaired the saran-wrap window I ripped into last night, but I notice it’s not as warm inside as it was then.
It doesn’t take me long to spot the curvy backside of the woman I came here for. Her black crochet braids bounce along her shoulders as she serves a customer. I don’t wait to be seated. There’s an empty corner booth on the other side of the floor. I go as far away from everyone else as I can get, and then I get comfy.
I watch as Nia turns and scans the diner. There’s a bell chime on the front door, so she knows a new customer has entered the building. I can’t imagine she was ever expecting it to be me.
It’s a good thing she’d already dropped off her plate of food on her customer’s table, because otherwise, she might have dropped it to the floor. Her eyes go as wide as twin moons when she spots me. Her limbs go as stiff as a statue.
I put my good arm up on top of the red-couch cushion of my booth and smile.
She doesn’t smile back. Instead, she makes a beeline for the kitchen. I watch the familiar door flap back and forth as she disappears behind it. Flames skip up from the kitchen window. I try to spot her. No luck yet. All I can make out is a chubby dark-skinned cook with short, platinum blonde hair. I grab a menu.
The food doesn’t look half bad here. Sure, my seat is a little dusty, and there’s a stain or two on the chipped table, but there’s also stomach-rumbling smell wafting in the air. This is the kind of place I’d have eaten at when I first starting working for the Baron family. Cheap, but tasty.
I look back towards the kitchen and catch Nia’s gaze poking through the pass-through. When she sees me looking, she immediately jumps back out of sight. It’s almost cute. I can’t help but let an amused little chuckle escape my lips. If I hadn’t felt some semblance of a connection between us last night, I might be worried she was calling the cops right now, but I know she isn’t. I don’t know for sure how I know she isn’t, but the feeling is confident and reassuring. She wants me around just as much as I want to be around her. I swear, I can see it in her eyes.
It doesn’t take long for the kitchen door to squeak back open. Nia steps out like an angel in a dirty apron. She pats herself down and looks every which way but mine. No one else is looking for her services right now, though. I raise my hand and gesture for some attention. Her eyes roll so mightily I worry the whole world might tip over. My heart skips a beat when she finally starts walking towards my table.
“What are you doing here!?” she whispers at me, her voice filled with venom. Her jittery eyes dart back and forth between me and the floor. She takes out her notepad and pretends like she’s about to ask my order. I can smell her cocoa butter scent even through the overbearing odor of the diner food, and it threatens to lift me off of my seat.
I pat on my belly and give her my best attempt at a warm grin. I worry that my smile might still come across as a tad too shady, though, because she flinches at my attempt to ease her.
“I’m here for lunch,” I tell her, dropping my relaxed facade. I put my elbows on the table and lean into them without letting my gaze wander from hers.
“We don’t serve lunch here,” she spits.
I can’t help but let out a hardy laugh. I peer behind her and grin. There are about four other customers in the diner. They’re all eating what looks like lunch to me.
“Maybe just an early dinner, then,” I smile, looking back into Nia’s rousing brown eyes. My chest thumps, but I try to play it cool.
“Don’t serve dinner either,” she says, but her voice is filled with less venom now than it was just before.
“How about a late breakfast, then?”
“You should leave.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“I’ll call the cops.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out her phone, placing in on the table, just out of her reach. “With what?” I tease.
“We have a landline here, you know” she bluffs.
“Why didn’t you use it last night?” I call her on it.