Sandra has begun to rebuild her life after "the event" that freed her from Brad. The man hired to kill her. She had taken a job as a waitress in Florida. I'm sure most of you know the feel and atmosphere or the old diners.*
“Hey, be a doll, can you cover the counter for me awhile, because I just got a large table of eight?”
“Sure, Gail, no problem,” she said.
The woman picked up the tip the couple left and slipped it into her apron pocket. Her tables were now empty so watching the counter meant more tips for her. Only one man sat there and he was at the end closest to the service area, which she liked, less walking.
Swiping up the coffee pot in one hand as she passed it. She moved toward the man. When close enough for him to see her in his peripheral vision he looked up.
“More coffee?” she raised the pot for him to see it.
“Sure.” He pushed the cup to the edge of the counter for the refill.
He smiled. She smiled. His smile deepened, and when she saw it she turned away. But even she did not know why.
He showed up for dinner every night after that at 8:30 sharp. His name was Owen. She did not care and other than being professionally polite she said very little beyond more coffee and need anything else.
On the fourth night when she said, “Is there anything I can get you?”
He said to her, “Yes. I'd like a waitress who doesn't treat me like I have a contagious disease.” He watched her jaw drop in shock and listened to her stammer an apology.
“Shhh.” He put up his hand and waved it, “No, I'm sorry. I should not have said that, now I am the one being rude. It's just you seem like a nice person and well, I'm new here in town and sometimes I'd like someone to talk to. And I find your smile beautiful.”
She knew lonely and looking through new eyes saw his loneliness. She relaxed and gave him a beaming smile. With a silly girl nervous giggle she said, “Friends. I'm Sandra.”
“I'm Owen, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand for her to take. She almost hesitated, but felt foolish if she did, so she extended her's to grab his. The gleam in his eyes returned, however, this time she was not sure what should be her correct response. The sensible part of her said run, but who listens to that part when a man is looking at a woman the way he was looking at her.
“You're a hard woman, Sandra, come on and give a man a break. It's dinner, nothing more.” He turned on the stool as she passed pleading his case.
“Sorry, Owen I'm not interesting in getting involved with you or anyone.” She picked up the dirty dishes from table nine busing her own section in the diner.
“Ok, I get it I'm too ugly for you the look at.” He turned back around and picked up the glass of soda and finished it.”
She felt like dirt. She noticed the faint scars and somehow his face looked odd. She saw the scared skin that ran from the knuckles of his pinky finger and up the side of his hand. She didn't know how far up it went, because he always wore long sleeved shirts, and he used a cane but his limp was slight
He was dead wrong, but now she made him feel bad, and that did not sit to well with her.
“Stop that. It's not true and you know it. Look, you don't know me, and I have reasons and maybe there good reasons only to me, but that's all I got so, no is my final answer.” She forced herself to be firm trying not to hurt him more than she already had.
It might have done the trick except she walked over and patted his arm trying to console him. The contact sparked, they both felt it. When you walk on carpet and touch a metal door knob and you can see the spark flash and you yell ouch. Only there was no visible spark it was just a jolt of electricity the ran between them.
He laughed out loud and she jumped back, quickly turned, and headed toward the kitchen and refused to come out of it until after he left.
Owen did not show up the next night, but his flowers did. At 8:30 sharp a delivery boy delivered them. He scored two points that night or rather three. One she was not ready to face him and him not being there helped calm her. Two, the flowers when just a small mixed bouquet not large and embarrassing so everyone would make a fuss. The third point was the card. He simply drew a circle with a smile in the middle and signed it--Owen. No note saying anything gushy or demanding, no love or such stuff and nonsense.
Owen was walking in the door She set the end of the counter up for him, so by the time he took a seat his coffee and place setting was waiting for him. He nodded at her as she moved to take another table's order in her assigned section.
Betty the other waitress working that night took his order.
“That's it. Oh and French dressing on the salad. Betty, did she like the flowers?”
She would be letting Sandra deliver it even though she was not working the counter tonight. Betty had plans to be very busy, when his order was ready.
Sandra slid the plate of meatloaf special in front of him.
“Thank you for the flowers you shouldn't have, but they were...” looking back at the waitress station where they still were, “And they still are lovely. Thank you, again.”
“My pleasure, really it was.”
It wasn't until his last coffee refill. That he realized he has drunk more coffee in last few weeks than ever before, and wondered if that's why he now had trouble sleeping. As his eyes followed the woman around the diner he decided she was worth losing sleep over. * this is an ARC not pre-edited excerpt
This is were you can purchase the whole story:
UK: http://ow.ly/62sNoThank you spent time out of your busy schedule to stop by!