Page 39 of Smokey's Distraction
Stepping into the eatery was like walking onto a 1960s movie set. The chrome and steel sparkled, and the multi-colored checkerboard floor gave a punch of color to the diner. Booths lined the perimeter, their black faux leather complementing red cushions on seats that lined a silver-specked Formica counter that stretched across half the restaurant.
“Can I help you?” a young hostess with curly brown hair asked.
“I’d like a booth,” Ashley said scanning the packed space.
“It may be a while,” she said. “Counter space opens quicker.”
The thought of sitting sandwiched in between two strangers who would most likely want to talk didn’t appeal to her, but the smell of fried chicken permeating the air was making her mouth water.
“That’s fine.”
Nodding, the hostess then walked over to a family of four. Ashley skimmed over the chalkboard with the specials hanging on a wall behind the cashier’s counter: fried chicken, smothered meatloaf, and pork ribs.
“Here’s a menu to look at while you’re waiting.” Smiling, Ashley took it and opened it up, but before she could peruse her options, the hostess laughed. “Actually, a spot just opened up. Follow me.”
Closing the menu, she walked behind the woman and down the long aisle where a well-built man in jeans and a leather jacket was headed her way. As he drew closer, she noticed the faint scent of motor oil surrounding him. He stared at her, and then down at her chest as she squeezed past him in the narrow space. Once away from him, anger rippled through her as she looked back and caught him checking out her behind. Turning back, she pushed her anger aside and slid onto the empty stool, thanking the hostess. Breathing a sigh of relief that a woman was seated on either side of her, she relaxed, and again opened the plastic-coated menu.
A shrill laugh cut through the noise of iron trays clattering, dishes rattling, and voices calling out for drinks.
“Stop it! I’m gonna pee my pants!” a female shrieked.
Swiveling on her stool, Ashley took in the three men and four women seated in a booth against the wall. The man facing Ashley had his head turned toward the laughing hyena—whose low-cut blouse left little to the imagination—saying something that made her fall into a fit of giggles. Ashley recognized her as the woman she’d met at Blue’s Belly—the one who loved to talk.What was her name? It’s just on the tip of my tongue…
Then Ashley recognized the man—Smokey.
Leaning back against the counter, she shifted a bit closer to the woman on the next stool, and watched him. A pretty waitress sauntered over to his table and offered him a dazzling smile as she squeezed his right shoulder with her pink-tipped fingers. Winking at her, he said something that made her giggle, causing the blonde to pout. As the other women at the table leaned toward him, the curly-haired hostess sashayed over to join them, seeming to want to get in on the fun. And by his bright grin and comfortable manner, Ashley could see he was enjoying every bit of the attention.
She couldn’t really blame the women, because Smokey was one sexy package. The man oozed raw sex appeal and power, giving off a bad boy vibe in spades. And with those magnificent ebony eyes, dark hair, hot-as-sin physique, and gap between his two front teeth, it was no wonder women were so infatuated. The way he smiled at each one of them as they clamored for his attention would make most melt on the spot.
Ashley sighed heavily.There’s no doubt about it—Mr. Sexy is a major heartthrob, and he knows it. How many women have you left pining for you long after you’ve moved on?Just then, as if he knew she was checking him out, Smokey looked over, his gaze latching onto hers. Ashley’s heart raced. For endless moments, they stared at one another, until he winked at her and turned his attention back to the bubbly blonde.
Jealously sliced through her so suddenly—and unexpectedly—that a loud, “Oh,” escaped past her lips. Swiveling back to the counter, she chugged down half her water to cool the anger that had shamefully possessed her.Why the hell do I care who he’s with? He’s just my boss on this project and nothing more. Nope, I’d be nuts to get involved with that arrogant Casanova.
“Have you decided what you’d like to eat?” a waitress in her mid-thirties asked. The woman’s top three buttons on her pink uniform dress were undone, revealing a little slice of her beige brassiere.
“Uh …” Ashley scanned the burger section of the menu. “I’ll have the Santa Fe Burger, medium-well.”
“Fries?”
“Sure, why not?”
“You want a side of chili with that?”
Ashley handed the menu over to the waitress. “No, thanks.”
The woman whirled around and walked away. Slapping the order onto the dolly, she spun it around, yelling, “Santa Fe, MW. Fries.”
“Got it!” the cook yelled back at her.
A few seconds later, Ashley heard the sizzle of her burger as it hit the grill. As much as she wanted to turn back around and see what was going on at Smokey’s table, she forced herself to read the chalkboard above the service area, listing the available homemade pies. For a split second, she’d even contemplated starting up a conversation with the woman seated next to her.
“Smokey, you gotta come by and watch me dance,” the blonde, whose voice she recognized, said.
Ashley gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white.
“Maybe,” Smokey replied.
“You have to,” another female voice whined.
