Saving Della Ray

I turned to look at his table and saw the bill on it.

“Please excuse me,” I said to the couple in the midst of taking their order and hurried over to see what trouble he had stirred up this time around. I found a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the table. Annoyed, I sprinted out of the diner and caught him just as he was about to kick start his big bike to life.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I said.

“Doing what?”

I held up the hundred-dollar bill. “Why would you leave a hundred-dollar bill for a meal that isn’t even fifteen bucks?”

“Okay,” he responded calmly. “Your diner has a policy against tips?”

I was stumped for a moment, then I took the bull by the horns. “Of course not, but a hundred dollars? Are you trying to make me more indebted to you than I already am? I’m not a charity case.”

With his eyes narrowed, he folded his hands across his chest.

I tried my very best not to notice the clench and flex of his thick biceps as they strained against the leather. One did not need too much of an imagination to conclude that beyond the layer of clothes he had on was a hard body, sculpted with slabs of muscle and intoxicating virility. There was absolutely nothing tender about this man.

“Help me understand what the problem is,” he stated quietly.

“I already owe you. I should be paying for your meal. Instead, you’re leaving me a disproportionately massive tip.”

“So?”

There was no winning with this man, so I stepped forward and placed the money on the seat of his bike, but a gust of wind caught it and carried it away. If I had thought about it for even a moment, I wouldn’t have chased after it like a mad woman. When I returned, my face was flushed with embarrassment and rage at myself for being so unladylike.

He was in the exact same position I had left him in, his gorgeous eyes filled with amusement.

I wished I could tear up the bill. That would wipe the sarcastic smile off his smug face. “Just freaking take the money,” I yelled.

For the longest time he simply watched me, his expression veiled, then to my surprise, he reached out and accepted the note from my hand.

I jumped back like a cat coming upon a cucumber when his skin touched mine.

Luckily, he caught the bill before it could be sent on another flight up the street. “I thought you’d abandoned the groceries,” he said as he tucked the cash into the pocket of his jeans.

My eyes innocently followed his hand but when it got close with the one part of him I definitely did not want to be caught staring at, I shot my gaze back up to his face. I could have sworn his eyes flashed with a glint of cruel amusement. He seemed to be mightily entertained by my lack of sophistication.

I straightened my shoulders. “Well, it would have been a shame to just leave them there … wasted.”

“Hmm,” was all he said in response. Then his gaze lowered to rev his machine to life.

At the deafening sound, I took a step backwards and tried to ignore the panic that was arising at his early exit when we were still yet to come to an agreement. “After deducting your meal, I still owe you …” With my eyes raised to the sky I rushed to make the calculation in my head and to my surprise he waited. “I still owe you about forty-eight dollars. Would you like to keep coming for some more free meals?”

“Nah, this is not my kind of place, after all.”

For some weird reason that hurt. It meant he didn’t want to see me again. “So how do I get the rest back to you?”

“What’s wrong with now?”

My cheeks burned. It was horrible being poor. “I don’t have any cash on me.”

“No problem,” he responded.

Instantly, I felt the sting of my situation. Whether unintended or not his aloofness made me feel like a beggar before him. “I will pay you back,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll get it to you the moment I’m done with my shift. Send me your account information.”

He laughed. “All that for forty-eight dollars?”

I blinked. “Well, how else am I going to pay you?”

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself, lady.” Now he just sounded bored.

My eyes narrowed and I gave him a dose of his own derogatory medicine. “Fine. I work late night shifts at Sinkhole. It’s on East Main street, close to the pawn shop. If you stop by tonight, I’ll have your cash ready for you.”

“I’ll be there,” he said quietly.

I watched as he slipped his aviator sunglasses on the bridge of his Roman nose, completely shielding me from whatever was lurking in those blue eyes of his. I wanted to walk away as if I didn’t care, but my legs wouldn’t move. I stood there like an idiot and watched as he backed out of the lot and zoomed off into the late Saturday afternoon with a frightening speed.