Page 79 of Summer Heat
The diner was aptly named The Diner and was run by a very kind, very pregnant woman named Natalie. She grinned and slid him a menu when he pulled up to the counter.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll take two coffees and… I don’t know. What’s a good breakfast to go?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You got company?”
He grunted something that could have been a yes.
“Is your uncle back in town? I know some people who’d want to say hello.”
Shit. “No, not my uncle. Just a friend from town.”
And there was that curiosity in her gaze. He couldn’t even blame the townspeople. Not a lot changed around here, something that was both good and bad. Good because it gave them stability when Ethan knew exactly how unstable other parts of the world could be. Bad because the tendency towards prying made it hard for him to lie.
Although he hadn’t lied. He and Lia were just friends.
A sly look passed over Natalie’s face. She glanced toward the kitchen and then met his gaze. Her voice was low, husky, as if she was asking him something illicit when she said, “You like blueberries?”
“Sure, I like them well enough.”
She narrowed her eyes. Then her lips firmed. “Look, I’ll give you breakfast, but these are my terms. You can’t pay for it. And you can’t tell anyone I gave it to you.”
He eyed the loose white powder coating her apron. “Blueberries means what I think it does, right? Like, the fruit.”
She snorted. “No, it’s not just fruit. It’s a highly addictive substance known as pie.”
He grinned. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning.”
That earned him a finger point. “And
for that, you’re not getting any.”
She shook her head—apparently he had a lot to learn—before going back to the kitchen. He couldn’t help smiling while he waited. Couldn’t help nodding at the curious strangers on stools. The town made him feel like Lia did, as if ordinary things were fun and interesting, as if the colors were brighter and the air crisper.
Lia. How long until she left him? And how could he make her stay?
Soon enough she’d be back in Austin, where college kids wore their sarcasm like armor. With the hipsters and the lobbyists and all the other people like Chris. Ethan had felt like there’d been a troll under every bridge, asking questions he couldn’t answer. Who was he? What did he want?
But Dearling didn’t feel like a bridge. It didn’t even feel like a road. It felt home.
“Hail this afternoon,” said an older guy from two stools down.
Ethan tried to remember his name. Mr. Winterman? Appropriate, really, for both weather and the man’s snowy crop of hair. “That’s what I heard.”
Mr. Winterman nodded toward the back, where the diner owner had gone. “She’ll give you enough to get through the night, in case the roads ice over.”
Shit. The thought of Lia driving on icy roads made his gut clench.
Natalie returned with a large paper bag. She cast furtive glances at the other customers before handing it over. “Remember, this didn’t happen.”
He accepted the heavy bag with bemusement. “How much is in here?”
“Hail this afternoon,” she said, as if that explained everything. And he supposed it did. Icy roads meant he might not be able to get back in town until tomorrow. This would tide him over. He’d told Lia last night he wasn’t up for a relationship with her—or what would surely be amazing sex. But then again, he wasn’t sure he could let her go.
When Ethan started to pull out his wallet, Natalie shook her head. “We had a deal.”
“Not for this much food,” he protested.
