by Tia Lewis
I cleaned a few more tables before switching with Alana, letting her deal with the customers while I fixed the plates.
The rest of the day went by quickly, a break when the lull in the day hit. I ignored most of Alana’s attempts at conversation that weren’t directly about the diner or her boys, even if it seemed to annoy her.
Eventually, I gave up looking for Grayson completely and left the register to Alana, heading to the storage room to take inventory. After about an hour of counting bulk condiments, my cousin peeked her head into the back room.
“I’m going to head out,” she said, waving. “No one is here. Want me to lock up?”
I held up my hand, counting the rest of the napkins on the row I was on. When I had finished, I turned to Alana, offering a small smile. “No, thanks. I’ll get it.”
She nodded. “Sure thing. See you.”
I listened as she left, hearing the little bell jingle to mark her departure. I hoped she’d cleaned the tables, but I knew Alana, so it probably would be a bit of a war zone out there. Sighing, I counted the rest of the napkins on the second row, scribbling the answer on a pad of paper I kept in my pocket before going back to the main room.
There were no dishes left in the dining area, which I counted as a success, even if I’d have to wash all the tables and mop still. It wouldn’t take me too long, especially if Alana had cleaned down the burners. I could be out in an hour, which would give me just enough time to obsess over Grayson some more at home while watching a movie with Madeline before bed.
I went to the back and grabbed the broom along with a rag to clean off the tables. I was searching for the bottle with the cleaner in it when the bell signaled the opening of the door.
Seeing Alana’s jacket still on the desk, I smirked. “It’s back here!”
I heard the door close, and footsteps headed toward me. They sounded hesitant, and I nearly laughed that Alana would be so afraid to come back. “Coming back to help me clean?”
I leaned down to grab the cleaner, spotting it on the bottom shelf. Instead of Alana’s voice, however, a low chuckle filled the room, and I jerked up, hitting my head on the shelf.
“Shit,” I muttered, sitting back on my calves and rubbing my head. Standing in the doorway with his hand over his mouth was Grayson.
“I’m so sorry,” he said from behind his fingers. His eyes were wide, brows far enough raised on his forehead that his pushed down hair mostly hid them. I blinked, dropping my hand from my head. “You—I thought you called me back here.”
“I thought you were my cousin.” I stood, running my fingers through my hair. It was a bit of a mess after a long day spent at the diner. I knew I looked disheveled, my hair messy and my clothes stained. It was a long day, and I wore each moment on my face and posture. I had to resist the urge to fidget under Grayson’s stare.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I can leave if you want.” He gestured to the door, though he took a step forward into the room.
I shook my head. “No, it’s okay.”
I sat the cleaning supplies down on the desk, next to where the broom was propped. My stomach flipped as I watched him shuffle from one foot to the other, smiling.
Grayson took his beanie off his head, scrunching the materials in his hands. “You’re closing?”
I nodded. He looked out the door to the dining area before shrugging and shoving his hat in his jacket pocket. His hair was sticking to his forehead, and his cheeks were bright pink from the chilly evening.
“Hand me that broom. I’ll help.”
I waved him off, but he just smiled a little bigger and passed me, grabbing the broom and heading out of the back room, leaving me behind.
After a moment, I blinked and bit my bottom lip. Fighting my own smile, I grabbed the rag and cleaner and followed him. The smile broke through when I saw that Grayson had deposited his jacket on the counter and was sweeping near the door. His motions were too fast and broad, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he concentrated on the task. He was wearing another long-sleeved t-shirt, this one a dark purple shade that made his skin seem paler. It was tight enough that I nearly sighed happily watching the muscles on his arms bulge and contract as he swept the floor.
We worked in tandem quietly, the only sounds in the entire diner being the scraping of the broom’s head on the floor and the soft sounds of me wiping down the tables. Grayson occasionally walked through his own piles, making him mutter under his breath before sweeping the area. I studiously pretended not to notice and continued my own task, cleaning tables and chairs before putting the chairs on top of the tables to allow him to sweep under them.
I would probably have to re-sweep the floor when he left before I mopped, but I liked that he was trying. I liked the menial tasks to be passed with him there, sleeves pressed to his elbows and tongue slipped out of his mouth as he concentrated. He looked adorable.
When he accidentally dragged the broom through another swept pile, I had to turn around to hide my laugh. I didn’t move fast enough, though, and Grayson, of course, saw.
“Are you laughing at me?” he asked, his jaw dropping as he threw his arms out. “I’m helping.”
I didn’t bother swallowing my new round of giggles. “You’re certainly trying.”
His own mouth twitched, an almost smile, that was replaced by a sharp glare I thought was a little forced. “You’re positively cruel.”
I grinned. “You’re terrible at sweeping.” I started to giggle again, and this time, he joined me. “Have you ever even seen a broom before?”
Grayson dropped the broom and shook his head, his own grin wide now. “I have, thank you very much.”
I nodded playfully, mockingly. I finished wiping down the table I was on and started moving the chairs. “You’ve just never used one, then.”
He laughed. “Rude.” He moved over to where I was and lifted the last chair. Teasingly, he raised an eyebrow and said, “You’re welcome.”
My shoulders shook as I tried not to laugh again. “Thank you.”
The diner was far from finished, though there was only one table left and the sweeping he had done—while terribly executed—did help some. He sat on one of the bar stools and placed his chin on his hand, cocking his head and looking pointedly at the stool next to him. I joined him quickly.
“I really do appreciate your help,” I said after a beat. He shrugged one shoulder, but his lips quirked in a pleased smile, and he scrunched his nose, the little freckles drawing my attention again. I wanted to draw the constellations with them. We were close, our knees brushing. I folded my hands in my lap to avoid doing something dumb.
The silence between us was nice. He just watched me, his eyes slowly dragging across my face, down my neck and chest before raising again and capturing my gaze. My mouth was too dry to bother trying to start a conversation, and I liked the feeling that blossomed in my chest from his attention. It felt warm, and though I knew I was probably just imagining it, I thought I could smell cinnamon from being this close to him.
Grayson lifted his head and dropped his arm onto the counter, his fingers drumming against the top in a slow patterning. His eyes were a stormier blue today than they had been the other day. Like the sky in the winter time, when it has been snowing, and you think that it might start again any second, like a bruise formed out of the atmosphere. I liked this color, too.
“I kept waiting for you to call,” he said slowly after a moment. He flattened his hand on the countertop, and my fingers burned with the desire to cover them. It would be warm and masculine, and I thought maybe Grayson wouldn’t mind so much and—
My head snapped up, eyes wide as I took in his words. “You never gave me your number, so I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. I kept hoping you’d come by the diner!” I blurted out.
Grayson’s mouth twitched, and he nodded. His expression reminded me of summertime, even if his eyes were winter. “I know. Or, well, I realized that. Today. I just got swamped with thi
s latest project.”
My whole body relaxed, nearly sagging off of the stool. He wasn’t avoiding me. He’d just been too busy to come see me.
Well, I could hardly blame him for that. I’d been afraid to call him, just as he’d been too occupied with work to come to the diner. I had forgotten to get his number just as much as Grayson had forgotten to give it to me.
“So,” Grayson continued. “I decided to come find you myself.”
“Oh.” My throat was dry again. I swallowed heavily. “I’m—glad.”
“Good.”
“So.”
“So.”
“Um. Can I—well, can I have your number now?” I winced, scratching at the sore spot above my ear. I kept my hand there while I waited, holding my breath. Did I have to sound so nervous? Couldn’t I just ask for the guy’s number without wanting to immediately hide in the supply room?
Grayson, luckily, didn’t seem to notice my horrified reaction to my own nerves. His eyebrows jumped and his tongue swept across his bottom lip as he nodded. “Give me your phone.”
I jumped up and darted behind the counter, grabbing my cell and handing it to Grayson from behind the barrier. I went and sat next to him again, feeling my cheeks flushing as our knees hit, and he shot me a quick smile.
He typed into my phone for a moment, and then a ringing sounded from Grayson’s jacket. He reached over, grabbing the jacket from a few seats away. The thin shirt rose, a strip of skin and carved muscles peeking out. I tried to avert my eyes but instead stared harder.
When he relaxed back in his seat, he was holding his phone. “There,” he said. “Now I have yours, too.”
I grinned. “Good.”
He nodded, drumming a finger over his lips before dropping his hand. He put an elbow on the counter and pushed himself up again, looking at me with a teasing smirk. “So, when’s our date?”
“Our date?” My heart stopped for a moment before kicking into overdrive, thumping against my chest aggressively.
“Yeah, our date.” His voice went from light and playful to deep and serious, sending small shock waves down my spine. “You’d better not forget. This matters to me.”
I felt like he might be composed of helium. “It does?”
Grayson tilted his head up, his strong jaw flexing for a moment before he let his head drop again, a short nod. “Yes,” he said carefully, watching my expression. “You matter to me.”
Warmth flooded me at his words. I briefly fantasized about biting that jaw lightly and running my lips over the smooth surface of his neck.
“Friday?” I asked a little hoarsely.
He nodded, eagerly. His shoulders raised, his posture straight and his eyes flickering down to my lips quickly before coming back up to my eyes. “Perfect.”
“Perfect,” I repeated.
Grayson’s phone rang and, after a few rings, he huffed and glanced at it. He rolled his eyes and silenced it, offering me a one shoulder shrug. I shrugged back.
“What are we going to do?” he asked, leaning a bit closer. His lips parted, eyes still stormy, and I nearly sighed. “Movies, dinner, beach walking? The classics? Or, let me guess.” He smirked, leaning back as he appraised me, narrowing his eyes. He looked positively dangerous like this. My pulse hammered as I waited to hear what he would say. “Something crazy. Like paintballing or community service.”
I licked my lips, clearing my throat. “Haven’t decided. You’ve given me quite a spectrum to work toward.”
His eyes widened in consideration. “That I have.”
He leaned on his fist, blinking and looking at me. His expression shifted, nearing a frown as if he was contemplating something heavy. His phone rang again, and he silenced it without even looking.
I didn’t know where I was supposed to take him for our date. What kind of date would he even like? I was hoping he’d take me out, but he was new in town, so I suppose that I needed to be his tour guide. He was a celebrity—and not a bad one, either. His face was on every magazine cover, his movies in every theater, his name on every awards list. He was Grayson Sparling, for God’s sake. He could have any date he wanted with anyone he wanted. He could find a model to whisk him off to Paris for dinner or Rio for swimming. He could do anything. What was I, Jade Hunter, small time diner owner, supposed to do? Make him a burger and call it a night?
And it was already Wednesday—what could I possibly plan and pull off by Friday? It was practically no time at all and with such short notice, there was no way I’d get Alana to cover for him and—
Alana.
Oh, shit.
Grayson’s phone rang again. He silenced it. “Stop calling,” he grumbled.
I couldn’t believe I was such an idiot. “Seems important,” I replied, mind still racing. How the hell had I forgotten about Todd’s stupid birthday again? “You can answer it.”
“Just my manager,” he shrugged. Then his eyes sparkled, his face lighting up. “Doesn’t matter. Not as much as figuring out where we’re going for this date.”
I groaned, closing my eyes, and my head lolling back. “I can’t.”
I sighed heavily and shook my head remorsefully. Just my luck. I sat straight again, looking at a very confused Grayson.
“Why not?” he asked, his lips pulling into what was dangerously close to a pout.
I couldn’t help but start smiling at the look. He might play the dashing lead very well, but he was also possibly the cutest man on the planet.
And now I had to cancel my date with him because of family. Ugh.
“It’s my cousin-in-law’s birthday. I have to go to this party for him,” I explained, frowning. “I would just not go, I really would, but, see, Alana—Alana, that’s my cousin—she’s, like, really determined that I go this year and I don’t want to deal with that because, well, you don’t know Alana, but damn, can she keep a grudge,” I quickly spoke the words, throwing them out as I prattled on nervously.
He blinked. I felt my earlier happiness dissipate.
“I’m really sorry. I really want to go out; I just can’t. That is unless you want to go to a family party with me.” I gave a half laugh, shaking my head. I could just imagine Madeline’s face.
Grayson, though, didn’t laugh. “Why not?”
I stopped short. “Wait, what?”
He pressed his lips together, turning to look at the signs behind the counter. “I could go with you. That way we can have our date, and Alana won’t hold that grudge.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. His hair somehow seemed bigger when I was looking at his profile, his jaw nicely decorated with a five o’clock shadow and his nose straight as he refused to look at me. I considered dismissing his idea and suggesting a different day for the date. I didn’t want Grayson to feel obligated to go to some boring event where Todd would undoubtedly make an ass out of himself and Madeline would want to take a hundred selfies. But his posture was tight and his hands, on his lap, were clenched into fists.
I didn’t know why, but I was pretty sure that this mattered to him. I mean, really mattered. For some reason, he wanted this. And, if I was being honest, so did I.
“We can leave whenever you want.”
His head turned sharply, his eyes widening. The open, nervous expression surprised me, giving me a new bout of warmth inside my stomach. “Okay.”
“I mean it. You say the word or—or—I don’t know, nudge my knee or something, and we’re out of there. Alana be damned.”
He scooted a bit closer to me, pressing himself on the edge of the stool. He nodded.
“You’ll have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” I insisted.
“I will,” he promised, nodding solemnly. He looked incredibly earnest as if he was vowing something much more serious to him.
“Well then,” I shook my head, even if I couldn’t swallow my smile enough to look serious. “Looks like we’ve got a plan.”
His returning smile burst across his attractive face, making
my chest ache. “It’s a date.”
The ringing of his phone broke our trance, and he cursed, grabbing it. He was about to silence it when I reached out, gently touching his hand. He turned to me with his eyebrows raised.
Blushing, I dropped my hand. It stung as if it had been burned. “You should answer it.”
He cocked his head. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, studiously pretending like my face wasn’t a bright pink from the touch. “I’ve got to finish cleaning anyway, so.” I shrugged.
Grayson ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor as a smirk pulled at his lips. He glanced up at me through his lashes, hand still wound in the thick, curly hair and eyes burning nearly indigo.
“Alright,” he said, drawing the word out slowly. He stood, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll go.”
I stood, my knees wobbly as I sucked in a deep breath. “Want to meet here? At, say, seven?”
He nodded. The phone had stopped ringing, but he still made no move to check to see who had called. He shoved it into his pocket instead and took a step toward me.
Gently, he lowered his lips to mine, very softly touching them, tantalizing me. I leaned in, gasping quietly as I parted my lips as I tried to press them harder against his. He was so close. His breath smelled like chocolate, and I just knew that the taste would mix with cinnamon until I was heady from the concoction.
He allowed a brief second of our lips touching before he pulled away, pupils dilated, and cheeks flushed. “I’ll see you on Friday, diner girl.”
He left, once again, with my fingers still pressed to my lips and my veins on fire. When I finally got my wits back about me, he was long gone, and only one thought was running through my head.
It was going to be a long two days.
Jade
The wind curled around us, seeping in through my thin jean jacket. I regretted not bringing my good coat, regretted not opening the door immediately, and in fact, regretted even going on this date in the first place. What was I thinking? Inviting Grayson Sparling to a family dinner—Alana would be there, not to mention her husband and Madeline. There was no way I was going to get out of this party unscathed.
