Page 15 of Daring to Surrender

As soon as he walked in the diner, he knew something was different. For one, there was a sign in fancy script saying, Welcome, please seat yourself. We’re happy you’re here!

Walter had never been happy he was there, much less anyone else. Dozer had been coming to the diner for years and that welcoming signage and Walter didn’t mix. He wondered if the place had been sold. Peering through the kitchen window, he saw Walter at the cook stove, so that didn’t answer his question.

One booth was vacant at the back and he headed toward it. As he walked through the dining room, he noticed a second difference. The atmosphere was light and festive. He nodded to a few people he knew and couldn’t help but see the diners were having a good time. Usually you sat, ate, and left.

His head jerked up when the third difference occurred. Walter, the saltiest man he’d ever known, pleasantly announced plates were ready to be picked up. He’d never heard Walter do more than growl.

Two women came out of the kitchen with plates in both hands and his jaw dropped. It was them. His neighbors. Waitressing. The younger one went to the other side to deliver her plates, but the irritating woman served her plates to a booth near him.

“I’ll be right with you, sir,” she said without looking up from setting the plates in front of the man and woman waiting. She asked if they needed anything else and then told them to enjoy their meal.

Reaching into the apron she was wearing, she pulled out an order pad and pen, and her ready smile fell when she saw it was him. Dozer could see her indecision, but her high-born manners won out and she pasted that damn smile back on her face. “Good afternoon, what can I get you today?”

She wasn’t wearing her fancy clothes. She had on a pair of non-designer jeans and a plain pink sweater that fit every one of her delectable curves. When she’d bent over to deliver the plates, he’d gotten a nice, lush view of those assets. A frown took over his face. Every asshole in this place had probably gotten the same view and that didn’t sit well with him.

Bitches at the club danced topless all the time and he never even noticed anymore. But a sliver of her mounding cleavage had his cock stirring.

“Do you know what you want, or do you need me to give you a few more minutes? I’ll go ahead and tell you my chest isn’t on the menu,” she said, with her gaze on the order pad but a smirky grin on her face.

Her smart remark had his eyes jumping to hers. He’d been caught and rightly so. “Well, that’s a pity, sweetheart. You would have enjoyed it, I can guarantee you that.”

Dozer watched a flush climb up her neck and paint her cheeks the prettiest shade of pink. He was glad those assholes from earlier hadn’t finished him off before he got to see that incredible sight. He shouldn’t be teasing her. He shouldn’t be talking to her or even looking her way. She had too many secrets and was way too high maintenance. Shame that didn’t make him want her less.

His gaze went down to the menu. “I’ll have a sweet tea and the meatloaf dinner with mashed potatoes and sweet potato casserole.”

She wrote his order down on her pad. “I highly suggest the corn or green beans instead of the sweet potato casserole.”

“Ah, Walter made it again?”

A half grin pulled at her lips. “I’m not sure who made it, but you’d probably enjoy something else more. Even the sweet potato fries are an option.”

He knew what he’d enjoy most and it wasn’t on the damn menu. It was cute that she wouldn’t speak the truth about Walter’s less than adequate cooking. He did fine on the cooktop, but his lady friend usually did any baking. Unfortunately, Walter had ticked her off and she’d left town, giving him one more thing to grouch about.

How did he know so much about the man? Walter was a patched-in member of the Kings of Chaos.

“I’ll have the green beans,” he said, folding his menu and stashing it back beside the napkin dispenser.

“Very good. I’ll have that order right up.”

Dozer leaned over to get the full view of her impressive retreat in her tight jeans. She was back in only a few moments with his drink. “Here ya go.”

She sat the frosty glass of tea down and noticed his hands. She gasped and asked, “What happened?”

“Ran into a door,” he replied, dismissing her concern. Telling her the door was actually a 250-pound beef of a man was club business and therefore private.

One of her perfectly arched brows rose. “I have brothers. I know you’ve been in a fight. Is anything else hurt?”

Her gaze ran over his face and as much of his body as she could see with him sitting down in the booth. “I’m fine, darlin’. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she squared her shoulders, gave him a nod, and went back to work. At least that’s what he thought she’d done. Instead she showed back up with a plastic bag of ice. “Here. You need to ice those knuckles and the bruise forming on your cheek.”

He touched his face and realized it was sore to the touch. The fucker got him on the face and he’d never noticed. Pussy hit like a schoolgirl. He shifted on the seat and his sore back told a different story. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”

The look she gave him made him feel like a naughty little boy. “Just do it and I promise your tough, grouchy guy persona will still be intact.”

Instead of a reply, he turned the conversation back on her. “What are you doing here? I can’t believe you moved to town to work for Walter.”

Her gorgeous face broke out in a compelling smile that made him join in and then she chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

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