Page 42 of Corrupting Ivy

I brought my cup of coffee to my lips and took a sip. “What gave you that impression?”

I watched Randall inhalethe pancakes like they were air, and he desperately needed oxygen. I should have fed him the night he stayed at my house. Wait, I told him to help himself, and he most certainly did when I found him in my bathroom that morning. I guess it’s his fault he didn’t check the bare fridge.

Otis finished his eggs and bacon long before Randall had his food and took off, but not before apologizing again for Rachel’s absurd behavior. Mr. Grady replaced his seat, making for an uncomfortable morning, until I asked Barbara, the other server, to take his order. He waved her off, finished his coffee, then left.

“He must like you,” Barbara said after Mr. Grady left. “He stared at you the entire time. I’ve never seen him do something like that.”

I pulled the full plate of food from the window and leaned in close. “He’s like what… fifty-something? He asked me out, Barbara… that’s weird.”

“Mhm. I’ve known him for a long time. He always keeps to himself, and he’s quiet—nice, but a little strange.”

Giving my customers their plates of food, I wandered over to where Randall sat and leaned over the counter, tucking my arms beneath my breasts. “Well, how was it?”

“As I remember.” He patted his firm abs as though he had a belly from eating. I rolled my eyes and smirked. “What are your plans today?”

He sipped his orange juice with extra pulp. “I have to find the laundromat. I’m on my last clean set.”

I smirked. “Hmm.” Just my luck. “You’re lucky. I always do laundry before my day off, so I’ll show you.” I bit my lip. “If you want me to, that is. I’m going there today.” Holding off your chores until your day off seemed moronic. Days off were for relaxing, not catching up on the things you didn’t get to throughout the week.

“When do you get off?”

I glanced at the clock. “In about thirty minutes. Think you can wait that out?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, in the meantime, would you like some more coffee?”

He placed his hands over his cup. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, retreating.

I put a stack of napkins in the silver holder and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast for myself, when the door dinged.

“Everything going okay out there?”

“Yes, Mr. Jensen.” I bit a piece of my toast, chewed, and swallowed. “The place has cleared up, but we’ve got another table that just walked in.”

“Okay, why don’t you take care of their order, then head out early?”

“That’ll be great. I’ve got some errands to run.”

He scraped the griddle off as he spoke. “Do you need to use the car?”

“I’ve got a ride, thank you, though.” I took another bite of my toast, placed it on my plate and walked out to help the customer, then froze in my tracks. The woman from before sat on the stool, her hair a wild mess. I glanced at Randall, who was on his phone, thumbing away a text. Not exactly sure what I expected him to do, but I was ashamed of myself for automatically looking to him for liberation.

“What can I get you?” I put the menu on the counter and slid it towards her, then jerked my hand away as she reached for it.

After taking a second to glance through it, she placed it down. “Water. Eggs, scrambled. None of that funny business like last time.”

That was damn near the same thing she ordered before. She jerked her gaze to the left as someone snickered. But I wasn’t laughing. This woman had me on edge. My skin crawled, and my hands shook. I’d never handled a woman with her level of… whatever it was we called it these days.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay.” I rolled my lips and took the menu away, then placed it in the holder as I passed by, giving the order directly to Walter. “It’s the crazy woman again, Mr. Jensen. For the love of all things good and holy, please, make sure they’re extra scrambled this time.” I frowned.

“It was just a misunderstanding before. I’ll take care of it.”

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