Page 18 of The Billionaire Land Baron

Chapter 6

Shelby had spent the slow hours at the diner doing what she did anytime she felt stressed: cleaning and organizing. It started with a deep clean of all the booth tables and the bar. They all had a crazy pattern on top and it was really hard to see all the coffee rings and food particles stuck to it unless you got close and scrubbed. It was disgusting. After that she refilled all the napkin dispensers at each table, topped off the ketchup bottles from the big container in the back. When she tried going through things in the kitchen, Noel shooed her out. He was pretty territorial.

It didn’t really help. The mindless tasks just gave her more time to work out how she was going to convince Bubba to let her keep her house. So far, her game plan was to just make more promises, look really pitiful, and act like there was more money coming in from somewhere. Soon. Maybe she had a great aunt in West Texas who was about to die? Bubba wouldn’t know. That might buy a few more months. A year maybe.

That wasn’t helping. The stress only mounted as the afternoon hours counted down. She turned to the book she brought with her that morning. Books always helped. She stood behind the counter, reading with one hand and wiping down the already clean surface with the other, when the bell chimed. She looked up with annoyance. Who comes in at three o’clock? Too early for dinner, too late for lunch. Her heart slammed into her ribs as Jake stepped blinking into the building, the afternoon sun glowing behind him, highlighting the red in his hair.

“Hey, City,” Shelby called.

He blinked again and stepped inside. “Shelby? You work here?”

“Yep. And I’m sorry, but if you don’t have a reservation, we’re booked through Wednesday.”

He looked around the empty vinyl booths. “Okay. But can I, uh, sit at the counter?”

“Gee, the counter reservations are full through Thursday. Of next week.”

He stood staring at her. “Shelby?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jokes, City, jokes. Sit wherever. You’re the only person likely to be here ‘til the silver rush at four-thirty.”

“Silver rush?”

“You know, old folks. The seniors, as they like to be called.”

He sat down at the counter in front of her, setting his laptop bag in the seat beside him.

“We don’t have wifi,” she said.

“That’s okay. I’m done working for now.” He picked up her book, My Name Is Memory. It was another by Ann Brashares. After finishing The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants in the wee hours of the morning and wanted to stick with the same author. “This any good?”

“It’s kind of surprisingly good,” she said. “It’s about this guy who falls in love with this woman and then follows her throughout time, hopping from body to body, kind of. He knows it’s her, but she doesn’t know it’s him.”

“Does it ever work out?”

“I’m not done yet. Books usually have happy endings, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Star Wars,” he said, absently.

She smiled, leaning on the counter. “But which one?”

“I’m pretty sure all of them.” He set her book down and smiled. “What’s good here? I haven’t eaten since a very delicious breakfast.”

She passed him a laminated menu. “Well, the breakfast is good. I mean, if you aren’t overly breakfasted yet. Also, the chicken fried steak and the BLAT.”

“Like a BLT with...?”

“Avocado.”

“I’ll have that.” He pushed the menu back and as he did, their fingertips brushed across each other. She sucked in a breath. Even the smallest touch from him set her skin on fire. Did he feel that too? He didn’t seem affected.

Turning to the window behind her, she called back to Noel: “Hey, buddy, got a BLAT.”

He groaned and set aside his newspaper. “It’s three in the afternoon. Break time.”

“What can I say. Break’s over. Should take up a good eight minutes of your reading time? Just for your trouble, make it two.”

Noel groaned. When she turned back around, Jake studied her face. She got him a glass of water just to break up his gaze. Maybe it was just that he was someone new, someone not from Lucky, but he was very good at setting her on edge. At the same time, their conversation was easy, unforced. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a conversation about books with anyone or quoted movies or books to people. Or showed anyone her library.

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