Forever With You: A Contemporary Romance (You and Me Series Book 4)

by Tia Lewis

  I grabbed the plates and stepped back. “I’ve got it.” I left the kitchen, gripping the plates before Alana could even reply.

  “Pancakes,” I said, skittering to a stop at the cracked table with the handsome man and his friend.

  He’d taken his beanie off, setting it on the seat next to his jacket. The pancakes nearly slid off the plates when my hands slacked—surprised by how gorgeous he was.

  “Those look great,” he said, raising an eyebrow when I didn’t make a move to set the plates down.

  His eyes, too bright and blue for his dark features, were hypnotizing, and I couldn’t pull my stare away from them.

  They reminded me of the beach, the day I moved in with my uncle and Alana after my mom’s accident. The water was so blue that day. The man blinked, and the watery, cerulean color disappeared before narrowing at me.

  My heart stuttered a bit, and I forgot, briefly, the importance of breathing. Gawking for a moment too long, he sighed at me, letting me know his patience was running out.

  “It’s always nice to be recognized, but sometimes—shit,” he muttered, sharing a look with the annoyed, shorter man across from him.

  “Listen, diner girl, don’t cause a scene,” the shorter man said in hushed tones, his glare pointing at me.

  I glanced down at him, my brows pulling together. “A scene?” I asked in a low tone, my voice scraping against my tongue as my throat forced the words out. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The short man let out a sound of annoyance. “I told you to keep your hat on.”

  “I know you did, Chris.”

  The taller man stretched his hands out, wrapping his long fingers around a mug of coffee that Alana must’ve brought him. He wasn’t as annoyed as his friend was. All I wanted to do was throw the plates on the table and walk off, but that’s not what Uncle Kyle would’ve done.

  “Your pancakes!” I said, a bit too loudly.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alana look up with a frown from the other side of the diner where she was taking an order. I cleared my throat and gently set the pancakes down.

  “Thank you,” the tall man said, smiling.

  Chris, however, said nothing but grumbled under his breath as he cut into the pancakes. I stepped back and turned, trying to hide my flaming cheeks from the handsome customer.

  “I’ll be back,” I told Alana, who nodded absently.

  I slipped into the supply closet—my sanctuary. I flicked on the light and shut the door, trying to drown out the noise of forks scraping ceramic and chairs scratching the floor.

  I know I didn’t have time to take a mental break—not when the diner was full of customers, but it needed to happen. For everyone’s sake, it needed to happen.

  I sat down on the cold vinyl floor, crossed my legs, uncrossed them, and then crossed them again.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I recognized the tall, handsome stranger. I knew I did. But from where? From when?

  Grayson

  I wasn’t hungry, but we needed to eat, so I let Chris drag me into the diner for a bite. All I wanted to do was lay low and stay out of trouble. When our waitress came over to take our order, I didn’t expect to see the most gorgeous pair of green eyes staring back at me. She was fucking beautiful. Her black hair was tied back in a messy bun, but even in her unflattering waitress clothes, her curves couldn’t be hidden. She looked a little irritated, and I found myself itching to see those lips turn up into a smile.

  Fuck, what am I doing? Focus.

  She was gorgeous and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. As she walked away to put in our order, I couldn’t help watching the sway of her hips as she graced us with a nice view of her shapely ass.

  As we waited for our food, I found my thoughts wondering about our waitress. She looked like she was in charge, or maybe the owner.

  “Let’s eat fast, Grayson; don’t forget we have a meeting to get to,” Chris cut into my thoughts, reminding me that we couldn’t stay long.

  “I know. Remember, it was your idea to eat first,” I replied, though I wasn’t in such a hurry to go. I sat back and took a sip of coffee.

  Diner girl, the green-eyed beauty, returned with our pancakes.

  “Those look great,” I said, raising an eyebrow when she seemed frozen in place. Aw shit, she recognizes me.

  “It’s always nice to be recognized, but sometimes—shit,” I muttered, sharing a look with Chris, who looked annoyed.

  “Listen, diner girl, don’t cause a scene,” he said lowly, glaring at the girl.

  “A scene? What the hell are you talking about?” she asked.

  Chris huffed. “I told you to keep your hat on,” he said to me in admonishment.

  “I know you did, Chris.”

  I picked up my coffee mug, a little irritated that he was being so rude.

  “Your pancakes!” gorgeous green eyes said loudly.

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling up at her.

  Chris, however, was silent. He started eating, as the beautiful server turned and walked away quickly, clearly annoyed. She kept going, heading into the kitchen.

  “Hurry up, we gotta go,” Chris started shoveling forkfuls of pancakes into his mouth.

  I sighed and dug in. We ate quickly, then Chris threw a few bills on the table to cover our food, and we left. I took one last look back at the diner but didn’t see our waitress come back out.

  Jade

  “Jade—” Alana threw the door open before stopping suddenly, her gaze dropping down and head cocking to the side. “What are you doing down there?”

  I refused to blush under the scrutiny of my cousin. “Nothing. Did you need something?”

  “You’re on the floor—”

  “Yeah, what do you want?”

  Alana’s head tilted even further, her fist still closed around the doorknob. We stared at each other, unblinking.

  “Right,” Alana said after a moment. “Well, um, you almost done in here?”

  Tightly, I replied, “Almost.”

  Alana nodded, her eyebrow raised as she shut the door. I groaned when I heard Alana stomp away.

  Stop being such a little baby and get the fuck out there.

  What kind of grown ass woman needed a fucking pep talk in the supply closet before lunch time? Me, that’s who. I hit my head against the palm of my hand. I was being ridiculous.

  So what if I made a fool of myself? It’s not like I was going to see him again—not after the shitty service he received.

  Standing, I took a deep breath and made my way back to the customers, unable to stop my gaze from narrowing to the table in the corner. Unfortunately, instead of my handsome insta-crush awaiting me, I spied a woman with a small child. “Where’d those guys go?” I asked, grazing by Alana.

  “Left,” she said, picking up a few of the dirty dishes on the counter in front of her. “A couple of his fans came and he and the short stumpy guy kind of bolted out of here really quick.”

  “Fans?” I frowned. Alana shook her head. “See, I knew you wouldn’t recognize him. That’s what I was coming back there to tell you when you were sitting on the ground, having a meltdown.”

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed the coffee pot, refilling empty mugs. “What are you talking about?”

  “We just had our first celebrity customer,” Alana grinned, turning to go into the back with the dishes she had stacked. “Grayson Sparling was here.”

  “Grayson Sparling?”

  Jade

  It was another week before I saw Grayson again, gracing the cover of a magazine. Three days after that, lightning struck, and I actually saw him again at the diner.

  He walked through the diner’s door, and I froze when the ruggedly good-looking celebrity smiled at me. My chest constricted and my mouth dried, forgetting how to think—breathe—function.

  Grayson closed the door behind him, smile still in place, and threw himself onto a stool at the counter, right in front of me. He was wearing o
versized sunglasses and another beanie—this one bright green, the opposite of discreet, despite the fact that he was probably only wearing one in order to be inconspicuous. He took his jacket off and draped it over the stool next to him, revealing a dark gray shirt that clung to him tightly. I couldn’t breathe. And it wasn’t like I was particularly fond of his work. Grayson Sparling’s repertoire was nearly all romantic movies, playing the strong and chiseled lead to a swooning Hollywood starlet. Needless to say, damsels in distress weren’t my cup of tea.

  Grayson

  I slipped the sunglasses off my face and shot her a quick smile.

  “Hi again, diner girl.”

  She smiled at me but didn’t reply.

  “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your pancakes.”

  The corners of her mouth turned upward. “I can’t say you’re the first person to tell me that.”

  A short, sudden laugh burst out of me. “No,” I agreed, “I can’t imagine that I would be.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. “So—pancakes, I take it?”

  I pressed my head on my fist, leaning my head on the countertop. Her gaze flickered around the diner, never landing right on me. Perhaps she was too afraid to make eye contact? Perhaps I wasn’t as interesting as I thought I was?

  “What else can you make?”

  Her head snapped back—her cheeks flushing. “Are you serious?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if—”

  “This is a diner, you know. Would you like a menu?”

  “No,” I swatted away the offered plastic. “I’ve looked before. I know what you make. I want to know what you want to make.”

  “I don’t have time for your games.”

  I looked around the empty diner. “I don’t see that you have any pressing matters at the moment.”

  She threw the menu under the counter. “You don’t know what I have.”

  “Touché.”

  “Breakfast foods,” she growled. “We have breakfast foods.”

  I raised an eyebrow as she poured coffee into a mug and slid it to me.

  “Did I say something to offend you?”

  “No. Sorry. I’m just—”

  “Just what?”

  “Do you like interrupting people when they talk?”

  I took a sip of my coffee, trying to figure out where her sass was coming from. Setting the cup down, I pulled two packets of sugar from the dispenser sitting on the counter, ripped them open, and then dumped them into my cup.

  “That much sugar, huh?”

  “I like most things sweet.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Most things.”

  “Well, you’re not gonna find that here.”

  “Why are you so sassy?”

  “I’m not usually.”

  “You seem like you need some taming.”

  She rested her hands on her hips. “Did you really just say that to me?”

  I took a sip of my coffee, then set it down. “Sure did.”

  Her cheeks turned red, and her lips tightened as she grabbed her pen and pad and huffed away. It wasn’t my best come on line, but something about her just brought out the animal in me.

  She made her rounds, pouring coffee, taking orders, then finally came back to refill my mug.

  “What’s as good as your pancakes?”

  The door’s bell jingled, proceeded by the angry wails of children.

  With her eyes still clenched, she sighed heavily. “My omelet, I think.”

  “Oh,” I said, raising my voice to combat the screams of the children. “I guess I’ll have to come back to try that.”

  “Yeah, looks like chaos has arrived and you probably want to have a quiet meal.”

  “Well, it’s not the quiet I was looking for.”

  She blushed.

  “What’s your name?”

  She tapped her name tag with her pen. “Says Jade right here.”

  “Jade. Pretty name. I didn’t know if that was a fake name tag or something. I never like to assume.”

  “Do you assume a lot?”

  I chuckled. “More than I’d like to admit.”

  I grabbed my sunglasses and slipped them back on. “I’ll be back, Jade,” I said, grabbing my coffee, draining the mug in a few hard swallows.

  “I won’t hold my breath,” she sassed.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out some bills and deposited them on the counter, grinning as I hopped off the stool.

  Quickly, I made my way out of the diner, sneaking a quick glance over my shoulder at Jade before rounding the corner. She was goddamn beautiful, and the attitude on that woman made me crazy. I wanted her in the worst kind of way, and I knew my fame wasn’t going to help me—not this time.

  Jade

  Staring out the glass door as he left, I think I caught him stealing a quick glance at me before he disappeared around the corner. Alana snapped her fingers in my face, yanking me from my trance.

  “What in…” she said, drawing the syllable out, “the sweet hell did I just miss?”

  I ignored her question and began to wipe down the counter. Alana wasn’t one to deter easily, so she asked again. “What the hell did I just miss?”

  She threw her coat over a stool and snapped her fingers at her boys who were using a booth table as practice drums.

  She turned back to me, rolling her eyes, annoyed with the noise they were making.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Nothing.” I took a sip. “Nothing.”

  Alana propped her chin on her fist. “You really think I believe that?”

  “Don’t you?”

  She harrumphed after a moment of silence and pouted.

  “What was he doing here again?”

  My stomach clenched. “Can’t a man get some food without an ulterior motive?”

  “Sure, a man could. Grayson Sparling—not so much!” My throat tightened, and my palms tingled.

  “He’s just a customer.”

  “Just a customer, huh?”

  “Just an everyday customer.”

  “I can’t believe we’re a hot spot for a celebrity.”

  I cleared my throat. “He just liked the pancakes, is all.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Alana’s eyes widened. She stole my coffee cup and around a sip muttered, “Maybe I should introduce myself. I mean, Dad made the pancake recipe for me.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll really endear you to him.”

  Alana laughed, too, though she narrowed her eyes in a mocking glare. “Hey, don’t be a bitch to me. I’m here to bake your damn pies, aren’t I?”

  “That you are,” I conceded, holding my hands up in surrender. “Both our customers and I thank you profusely.”

  “Good.” She nodded. “You’re coming to the party next Friday night, right?”

  “Of course, I am.” I glanced over at the boys, who were having their own personal booth party.

  Alana shook her head, and some of the bits of hair that had been clipped in her bun fell out.

  “Remember to grab your hairnet before you start baking.”

  “Why do you always tell me that?”

  “Because you need to be reminded.” I chuckled.

  She nodded. “True.”

  “Don’t forget—it’s the hub’s birthday.”

  My shoulders slumped. I didn’t really care for Alana’s husband since he was a bit of a jerk. Todd was a good guy, I guess, but he didn’t like breakfast foods, and he certainly didn’t like the diner. He had wanted to sell it after my uncle died and had almost convinced Alana it was the right thing to do. He kept bringing up the money, and how much it would help everyone out to have a fresh start. Thank goodness Alana decided against it.

  “Of course—Todd’s birthday.”

  Alana narrowed her eyes. “Okay, you going to be there?”

  “I’ll be there,” I promised.

  This seemed to satisfy her. “Okay, I’ll hold you to that. I got t
o go make some pies. Watch the boys.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’ll have to make your own pies.”

  There was no way I was going to get stuck making damn pies. “I’ll be here watching the boys,” I replied, quickly.

  “I thought so.”

  She disappeared into the back as I spent the rest of the afternoon flitting between customers and my little cousins, pretending like Grayson wasn’t the only thing running through my mind.

  Jade

  The city was brimming with bookstores, but I only ever visited Bookies, because the owner and my roommate, Madeline, only ever ate at Kyle’s. It was a nice trade-off that worked well since Kyle’s made the best patty melts, and Madeline always remembered to stock action novellas—my favorite.

  As I walked up and down the aisles, I thought about the last time I’d seen Grayson. I couldn’t believe it’d been two days and, in those forty-eight hours, the idea of seeing him even just one more time became more and more appealing. But, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle seeing him a third time. There was just something about him that made my legs wobbly, and my stomach feel like I was on a roller coaster. Secretly, I’d done a little research, having watched two of his more popular movies, and coming to the conclusion that he definitely looked a lot better in person—television just didn’t do him any justice.

  I don’t even know why I kept thinking about him. What if he never showed up again? Or, what if he did? What would I say? How would I act? Probably like a bitch like the last time.

  Gaaah, why did I do that? Just as I was fretting through my anxiety filled daydream of Grayson showing, and not showing, Madeline’s frustrated groan filled the bookstore and slung me back to the present.

  “I’m so sick of people saying that books aren’t important! They are! I know that Kindles are cool or whatever, but books matter, people!”

  “I agree,” I replied, almost confused by what had crawled up her panties.