Page 5 of Marked By Night

I’m busy cleaning up their plates when I remember the door chimed a few minutes ago. My eyes scan the dining room until they land on a man with unruly red hair sitting in a booth on the far side of the room.

I rush over to his table, almost tripping over my feet in my haste. “I’m so sorry about your wait, sir,” I say. “It’s been a little hectic so far.” I smooth my apron down with my hands and my hair too, because damn, he’s fine.

The man startles, his vibrant silver eyes lifting from the book in his hands to capture mine making my breath whoosh out of me. They’re like two perfect little twinkling stars. I’ve never seen anything like them. His red hair is cropped on top, and he’s also wearing a pair of black-framed glasses. I’m a total sucker for them too. He looks to be a few years older than me, but likely not much.

Most of our customers are regulars, but I’ve never seen this man before. Another festival-goer, I’ll bet. Three hot strangers in one day, is this luck or something else?

“It’s all right,” he tells me softly, closing his book. His voice is low, soft, and a little gravely like a smooth exhale. “This was luring me in, anyway.”

His response makes me smile. “Nice! I love when books suck you in from the start. What are you reading? I’m always looking for new reads.”

To say I’m a giant book nerd would be an understatement. I’ve been slowly working on my collection over the years and it’s getting quite large. Leaning forward, I try to catch a glimpse of the cover, but his large hand shifts, covering the title before I can see anything.

“Uh, nothing,” he blurts quickly. Too quickly.

My eyes narrow. Is he reading lady porn? Because if he is, fuck yeah! More power to him. Although, I take the hint and drop it. Even if I’m dying to know what has his cheeks turning pink.Brains and looks? Sign me right the hell up.

He laughs, and it’s a husky sound that goes straight between my thighs.

I lift a hand to my mouth; I didn’t realize I’d spoken. “Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he coughs looking suddenly uncomfortable. Wonder what that’s all about.

“Yeah, you sure did. I’m quite flattered,” he says.

“I have a bad habit of that.” I shake my head with a sigh, shrugging off the strange moment and return to the role I’m supposed to be fulfilling. Something about this man distracts me. “Anyway, what can I get for you?”

“I think I’ll take the number seven,” he says uncertainly.

“Ahh, the chicken platter. A man after my own heart. Good choice.” I pull out my writing pad and jot down what he wants. “I’ve never particularly cared for fish myself.”

He nods, flashing me a small smile that makes two little indentions poke in.

Ah, hell and he has dimples?

I’m in trouble.

* * *

I’mbusy dealing with the last part of the dinner rush when my coworker comes barreling in the door three and a half hours late. According to the clock, we’re a little under an hour from closing at this point. Why even bother?

After dropping off the refills on my tray, I glance over to find her leaning against the checkout counter picking at her pretty painted nails.

“Hey, Lauren, if you’re going to be here, why don’t you go check on table five?” I subtly tick my head in their direction, hoping she’ll take the hint.

She huffs, popping her gum at me. “Why don’t you? I’m waiting for food to come out.”

“Because I can do this nifty thing called multitasking,” I snap, exasperatedly.

She ignores me and continues picking at her nails. I open my mouth to speak again when a loud, overbearing whistle echoes through the dining room, followed by a few shorter whistles. My spine stiffens instantly. Whistling is one of my biggest pet peeves. I’m not a dog.

I take a deep breath before searching for the source. When another whistle reverberates through my bones, I find a burly man who barely fits in the chair he’s sitting in waving at me. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t seem to place him.

Lauren looks over and promptly bolts for the back without a word, like she knows something I don’t. Perfect.

The dim lights of the diner aren’t enough to hide the rough edges of this man. He flashes his expensive-looking watch at me, but it doesn’t even look like it’s ticking. The suit and tie he’s sporting look cheaply made and likely fake. His entire demeanor screams that he’s trying too hard.

Take a deep breath and do not let your anger show, Sadie.I coach myself, trying to rein in my facial expressions.

---