by Sara Davison
Do it Nicole. Don’t be such a coward.
Nicole sighed as she grabbed the pile of dirty dishes from her table and swung around to face Connie. “Do you think you can handle them tonight? I’ll take these dishes to the kitchen and see if Joe needs any help.”
Connie’s bright blue eyes didn’t lose their sparkle, although her shoulders drooped a little. “Maybe next time?”
“Sure.” Nicole leaned in to press a kiss to the soft, papery cheek of the woman who had all but adopted her after she started working at the diner. “Next time.”
Connie tugged the pencil she always teased Nicole for carrying around with her, old-school style, loose from behind Nicole’s ear and held it out to her. “Joe can handle the kitchen, Nic. Why don’t you go home? Your shift was supposed to end a couple of hours ago.”
Nicole shook her head as she took the pencil from her friend. “I’m okay. I can stick around as long as you need me.”
“We’ll be fine. With this weather, no one else is likely to come in. Go home, get some rest.”
“Well, if you’re sure …” It had been a long day, since she’d started at seven that morning.
“I’m sure.”
“All right then.” Nicole saluted her friend with the pencil before turning to head to the kitchen. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The jangle of bells stopped her short.
As the men she’d seen coming down the sidewalk spilled into the diner, Nicole jumped back between two tables. She clutched the dishes tightly as the men swept by.
The last man through the door stopped long enough to remove a rumpled fedora from his head and dip his chin. “Ma’am.”
Nicole nodded and watched him as he made his way toward the rear of the diner where Connie poured steaming coffee into mugs. With her eyes still on the corner table, Nicole stepped into the aisle and right into a tall man dressed in a long black coat, damp from the falling snow. When his hands instinctively cupped her shoulders, she jerked away, sending the mug on top of the pile she carried crashing to the floor.
“I’m sorry.” The man crouched down to retrieve the broken dish. His dark, tousled hair brushed the collar of his wool coat.
Warmth crept up her neck as Nicole set the rest of the dishes on a table and dropped to her knees, reaching underneath a chair for a piece that had skittered across the black and white tiles. “My fault. I didn’t see you come in.”
The man straightened and held out his free hand to help her stand. Nicole hesitated before placing her hand in his. His strong fingers closed over hers and he pulled her to her feet. After eight years of working in the diner, she’d come up with three hard-and-fast rules to discourage unwanted male attention. Third on her list was to not hold anyone’s gaze longer than necessary. Still, she found herself staring into dark, almost black, eyes, unable to look away. Maybe because he still had her fingers clasped in his, which, incidentally, fell under rule number two—avoid physical contact at all costs.
Nicole blinked rapidly and pulled her hand away. She spun around and grabbed the pile of dishes she’d set on the table and held it toward him. “Here. I’ll take them.”
The man tipped his hand and the pieces of ceramic clinked softly onto the top plate.
She nodded in the direction of the nearly empty dining area. “Sit wherever you like. Connie will be right with you.” When he didn’t move, Nicole maneuvered around him and strode toward the swinging doors.
Joe glanced over at her from his place at the grill as she came into the kitchen. “You all right, sweetheart?”
“Yes. Sure. Fine. Of course.” She dropped the dishes onto the counter with a thud. “I … broke a mug.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Nothing to get upset about. It’s not the first dish to break in this diner, and it won’t be the last, I’m sure.”
“I’m not upset. Only a little tired. Connie suggested I call it an early night and head home.” She reached behind her but paused midway through untying the strings of her apron. “Unless you need my help here?”
Joe waved his spatula through the air. “No, go. Everything’s pretty much done.”
The doors swung open and Connie flew into the kitchen. “Checks came today, Joe. The boys’d like burgers with their coffee.”
“Gotcha.” Joe winked at Nicole as he returned to his grill.
Connie tucked a loose curl beneath her hair net. “Nic, I’m sorry. I know I told you to go, but if you’re really okay to stay, you could take that table of two for me.”
“Two?”
“That man who came in behind the boys says he’s waiting for someone. I seated him, but if you could take care of them, that would be great.”
“Connie, I know what you’re—”
Connie’s smile deepened the laugh lines around her eyes. “I’m not match-making, honest. Not this time. I really need your help, please.”
Nicole’s shoulders slumped. She could never refuse Connie anything. Not that she minded helping, but she knew her friend had an ulterior motive and that, by staying, Nicole was playing right into her hands. With an exaggerated sigh that only served to widen Connie’s smile, she re-tied her apron and headed for the doors.
“Although …”
Groaning, Nicole turned to face her friend and raised an eyebrow.
“… it wouldn’t hurt you to keep an open mind. He seems like a very nice man—with no ring on his finger.”
With a quick glance toward the doorway, Nicole moved closer to Connie and lowered her voice. “I’m sure he is nice, but I really don’t think he’s my type.”
“You always say that. I’m beginning to wonder if you even know what your type is. ”Connie laid a comforting hand, rough and worn from years of washing dishes and waiting tables, on her arm. “Not everyone leaves, Nic.”
Nicole swallowed hard. “I know. But it’s better this way. For now.” She patted her friend’s hand before taking a deep breath and pushing through the kitchen doors.
Chapter Three
Bells jangled loudly as the diner door swung open again. Nicole pulled her pale green sweater closer as a blast of frigid air blew inside. A man bundled in a red Columbia ski-jacket and scarf stepped into the restaurant and pushed the door shut behind him. He yanked off his gloves and tucked them under one arm so he could blow on his clasped hands.
When he raised his head, a grin appeared beneath round, fogged glasses. Nicole smiled as he pulled them off. He wasn’t quite as tall as the man she’d bumped into, and his dark hair was shorter, curling just over his ears, but the intense black eyes scanning the restaurant were the same. They had to be brothers. When he lifted a hand and started across the room, Nicole grabbed the coffee pot and followed him.
“Holden!” The first man jumped to his feet and pulled him into an embrace, slapping him on the back.
“Hey, Gage.”
The two men slid into opposite sides of the red vinyl booth.
Nicole raised the pot. “Coffee?”
“That’d be great.” Holden pushed his mug toward her before pulling off his coat.
Nicole filled both cups. She felt Gage’s eyes on her but focused her attention on the steaming liquid. Clutching the handle tightly, she looked at Holden. “Do you need a minute?”
He glanced from her to his brother before closing the menu. “No. That’s okay. I’ll have a cheeseburger deluxe with fries.”
“I’ll have the same.” Gage picked up both menus and smiled as he handed them to her.
Joe passed the plates of food to Nicole through the kitchen window a few minutes later, and she set them in front of the men and left quickly. Before she pushed through the kitchen doors, she glanced at the booth. Gage’s hands were folded and both he and his brother had bowed their heads over their food. Nicole leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and watched them, absently reaching for the small gold cross she wore on a chain around her neck and rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. Interesting. She dropped the cross and pushed away from
the frame and through the swinging doors.
After grabbing a cloth from the basin on the kitchen shelf, she headed back into the diner and started scrubbing the tops of tables and polishing napkin holders, trying to keep busy. When there was nothing else to do, she returned to the counter and gathered the scattered sections of a newspaper. In spite of her efforts not to notice them, her gaze slid over to the brothers several times, lingering a few seconds when Gage’s voice rose, his hands gesturing wildly as he told a story.
Holden burst out laughing.
A grin crossed Nicole’s lips just as Gage glanced her way. He broke off the story mid-sentence, an uncertain smile breaking across his face as he slowly lowered his arms. She dropped her gaze quickly to the front page of the paper she clutched in both hands. Another child abducted. Chills rippled through her. That was the second child to have gone missing in Toronto in the last month, and no trace of either had been found. Nicole stuffed the other sections inside that one and tossed the paper into the blue recycle bin beneath the counter.
Her gaze flicked from one corner booth, where the boys chatted away noisily as they slurped their coffees, to the other. Coward. Stop avoiding your customers. The sooner you serve them, the sooner they will finish and leave. She walked over to the counter and grabbed the coffee pot.
Holden lifted his hand before she could fill his mug again. “No thanks, I need to get going.”
He reached for his wallet, but Gage shook his head. “I’ve got it.”
“Thanks.”
A burst of laughter from the boys in the corner rolled across the room. Nicole glanced over. Connie held a coffee pot in one hand and had rested a hand on the shoulder of the man with the rumpled fedora. Nicole swallowed and shifted her attention to her own table, stepping out of the way as Holden stood and pulled on his coat and hat. He held out a hand toward his brother. Gage grasped it tightly.
Nicole waited until the diner door shut behind Holden before turning to Gage. He was studying her intently, and she swallowed hard.
“That’s a beautiful necklace.”
Nicole closed one hand around the delicate cross. “Thank you.”
His eyes held hers for a few seconds. “Would you … have a cup of coffee with me sometime?”
Her throat tightened. “Oh, I don’t think—”
“No time like the present.” Connie came up behind Nicole and took the coffee pot from her hand, gesturing toward the table with her other.
“Connie, I don’t think he meant now. Besides, I need to …” She glanced around the empty diner. Every surface gleamed, and she mentally kicked herself for finishing all her work. She absolutely could not break her number one rule, which was—
“Go ahead, honey. It’s quiet tonight. Sit down and relax for a few minutes.”
—to never, ever sit down at a table with a customer. Nicole bit her lip as her friend grasped her elbow and guided her to the seat across from Gage. The rich aroma of coffee curled up around the pot in her hand and wafted on the steam. Connie grabbed a clean mug from the table behind her and filled a cup for both of them before returning to the boys.
Nicole shot a frustrated look at her retreating friend. So much for not match-making.
When she looked at Gage, he had a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry about that. As flattering as it is that you literally have to be pushed into having coffee with me, if you have other things you need to do, please don’t feel you have to stay.”
Grab the out he’s giving you. She leaned against the bench with a sigh. “No, it’s okay. It feels good to get off my feet. Even involuntarily.”
Gage grinned. “On the plus side, you’ve saved me.”
“From?”
He lifted his mug. “Drinking alone. Apparently, that’s a bad sign or something.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s alcohol, not coffee.” She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.
“Still, better to err on the side of caution, I always say.” Gage sipped from his cup before setting it down. “So, Nicole.” He nodded at her nametag.
She was used to strangers calling her by name but hearing it from this man sent her heart racing. Her jaw tightened. This was ridiculous. She was a reasonably high-functioning adult, most days. Chances were good that she could carry on a coherent conversation for a few minutes without dire consequences. Nicole drew in a deep breath and met his gaze. A lock of dark hair had fallen over his eye. A sudden, inane urge to reach out and brush it back struck her, but she pushed the thought away.
“Will your boyfriend mind you having coffee with me?”
Her fingers tightened around the mug.
Gage winced. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very subtle, was it? I’m usually a little smoother than that. Not that I’m in the habit of picking up women I’ve recently met.” His cheeks flushed. “Not that I’m trying to pick you up ... oh man.” He lifted his cup of coffee and sniffed it. “Are you sure this is coffee and not alcohol?”
Nicole gave in with a small laugh. “So, Gage.”
His mouth turned up in a half-smile.
“That’s an unusual name. Let me guess, your mother is a big fan of romance novels?”
The smile disappeared. “Actually, no. I was named after my grandfather, Gage Kelly the first. He died the night I was born, in the same hospital. My father, Gage Kelly the second, rushed me to his room when I was barely a few minutes old and placed me in his arms. My grandfather took one look at me, smiled, closed his eyes, and he was gone.”
Nicole pressed two fingers to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I had no …”
His lips twitched.
He wouldn’t. She dropped her hand. “You totally made that up, didn’t you?”
“Yep. My grandfather’s name is Raymond, and he’s still alive, as far as I know. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“And the name Gage?”
“You’re probably right, and it was the romance novel thing. My mother died when I was young, and I don’t remember what she liked to read, if anything.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t about to fall for that one again.
He met her gaze. “That one’s true, actually.”
“Oh.” Her stomach tightened slightly, but she forced herself to relax. She’d known the man for five minutes. Why should she care whether or not he’d grown up without a mother? Like she had. “That’s really sad.”
Gage shrugged. “Them’s the breaks.” He rubbed his forehead with the side of his hand. “Wow. No idea where that came from. I don’t think I’ve ever used that expression in my life. Sounded like something out of Goodfellas.” He laughed and lifted his mug to his lips.
Her eyebrows rose. “Why are you laughing? Am I funny? Do I amuse you?”
Gage snorted and nearly spewed his mouthful of coffee across the table. He set down his mug so he could reach for a napkin and press it to his mouth. When he had composed himself, he lowered the napkin and looked at her. “You know Goodfellas?”
“Way too well.” She rolled her eyes. “The brother of a friend of mine in high school loved it so it was often on at her place when I was hanging out there.”
“Did your parents know that? It wasn’t exactly wholesome teenage viewing.”
Nicole ran a finger around the rim of her mug. “My parents weren’t around much. They really didn’t know what was going on in my life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She lifted her shoulders. “Them’s the breaks.”
The compassion in his dark eyes stirred something deep inside her. Something she would rather not have to deal with tonight. Or ever. She shifted in her seat. “So your dad raised you and Holden on his own?”
A shadow crossed his face. “Actually no. He died when we were young too. Holden and I are all that’s left of the Kelly clan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Gage crumpled the napkin he’d used to wipe his face and tossed it onto an empty plate. “It’s been the two of us for
a long time. At least we have each other.”
The stab of pain that shot through her must have reflected on her face. He tilted his head. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing. I just …”
“You don’t have any family?”
Nicole had no idea how to answer that. Technically family members existed. That didn’t mean she wasn’t alone. Except for Connie and Joe, of course, who were more like her parents than her own parents had ever … She straightened on the bench abruptly. That thought was like eye contact with her male customers, lingering too long could only bring trouble. “Not really.” She let out a short laugh. “This has to be the most depressing first-date conversation ever.”
Heat flared in her cheeks. “Not that this is a date.” She tipped her nearly-empty mug toward her and gazed into it. “You might be right. I think Connie may have slipped something into this before she filled our cups.”
Gage chuckled. “Yeah, we kind of skipped the ice-breaker stage, didn’t we?”
“We definitely did. I’m not sure, but I think it was the fake dead grandfather story that set the tone for the evening.”
“That was mean, I admit. Let me make it up to you. Have dinner with me next week.”
Say yes. For once in your life, take a chance. “I can’t. I work long hours, and when I’m not here, I’m doing research for my thesis. I … don’t have time. I’m sorry.”
He contemplated her in silence. Nicole bit her lip. Had anyone ever looked at her that way? He’s reading me. She was used to men looking at the cover she hid behind. She didn’t love it, but the sensation was familiar and almost comfortable. Few, however, made any attempt to search deeper, to find out her story, who she really was. Which was exactly how she wanted it.
Wasn’t it?
I can’t do this. “I should get to work.” She slid to the end of the bench and stood.
“Are you sure? It seems pretty—”
“I’m sure. Besides, we’re … we’re closing.”
