Page 2 of Dining for Love

“Um. H-hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles, and I blink rapidly, trying furiously not to pass out. Because holy bright smile and dimples, Batman. Is this legal?

My hands shake a little as I grab for the notepad in my server apron, but it tumbles out of my hand, the green and white pages fluttering as it flops on the ground.

Of course this happens. Why wouldn’t it?

Muttering to myself, and absolutely certain that Hottie McDimples is watching, I bend to grab the pad.

Except I’m me, so instead of it being this graceful bend-and-swoop thing like Elle Woods, I whack my head on the edge of the booth’s Formica table.

“Ow,” I whine, dropping my pen and reaching up to touch my throbbing forehead. That’s definitely going to leave a mark. And if, by some miracle, my head isn’t sporting a massive bruise, the sheer mortification of this encounter will be certain to haunt me for a thousand lifetimes.

“Willa Dean, you okay?” Chief Mac’s voice is full of concern.

Groaning as I grab the notepad, I slowly bring myself back to standing. “It’s just Willa, Chief, and yes, I’m…fine.” I try to throw him a smile, but it’s probably more like a grimace based on the way his eyes widen and his head jerks back a bit.

Hottie McHotPants slides out of the booth, andwhoa.He’s tall. Not overwhelmingly so, but still. Tall. And broad. Oh God, that’s a lot of chest.Breathe.And now he’s bringing his hand up to inspect me for injuries, and sweet baby Jesus, could he just…not?

I reel away from his raised fingers and repeat, “I’m fine,” while gesturing for him to sit back down.

He does no such thing. In fact, the man steps right into my personal space. “You really did a number on yourself,” he murmurs softly. He smells like laundry detergent and some kind of cedary spice, and even his breath is minty.

Then I look up to meet his eyes, and I swear on a stack of blueberry pancakes, my knees literally weaken. They’re a gorgeous deep green, framed by thick black lashes, and they’re laser-focused on me, and for the love of all that is holy, I really, really need him to stop.

“Coffee? Tea? Water?” I blurt the words without thinking.

He smiles again, and the bit of scruff on his face isn’t enough to hide dimples so deep I could swim in them. Good lord, this isn’t fair. It’s impossible to focus with the way his eyes are…eyeing. Is that a thing? It should be. He’s a walking crime. Come to think of it, Chief Mac should arrest him.

“Coffee, please,” he says, sliding back into the booth and handing me my dropped pen.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. In, out.I take the pen and scribble the order down with shaky fingers, along with a note to get Chief the same.

I breathe my way back to the coffee pots, and hallelujah, I don’t pour the coffee all over myself as I get their orders. When I return, I’m no less dazzled by the man, and it’s beginning to be a problem.

“Guess I should make the introductions,” Chief says, nodding at Hottie. “This is my nephew, Reid MacKinnon. Reid’s gonna fill in for Jessica while she’s on leave with the new baby. Came all the way from Miami.” Chief’s chest puffs with obvious pride while I keep a smile pasted on my face, trying desperately to reconcile the fact that I’ll be forced to look at this man on the regular for the next three months.

Look, and of course not touch, because a man like him—sophisticated, flawless, and clearly put-together even in a freaking T-shirt and jeans—would never go for a woman like me. I may love being a diner cook, but it’s not the classiest of jobs. Come to think of it, most men don’t go for me, period. It’s the one drawback of growing up in a small town: I know way too much about the guys around here, and I don’t even show up on their radar.

It’s all for the best. I smell like fried food most of the time, anyway.

“Reid, this is Willa Dean Dash.”

Seriouslywith the Willa Dean. I increase the wattage on my smile, and it makes my head throb where I hit it. “Just Willa, Chief.” The only people still allowed to call me Willa Dean are my parents, and even that’s dubious on the best days. Which today is not. Not even remotely. Today is a day I’d like to rewind and stay in bed with the covers thrown up over my head.

Maybe permanently.

Reid flashes another blinding smile. “Nice to meet you, Just Willa.”

Oh, and he’s got jokes. Great. “Any food?” I croak.

Chief orders his usual, and then it’s Dimples McGee’s turn. He consults the menu far too long before finally shutting it with a snap. “Two eggs, over medium, wheat toast, dry, and bacon, extra crispy.”

I manage to write it all down before whirling on my heel to flee. Mom catches my eye as I pass her.

“He’s cute,” she singsongs.

Yes, he’s cute. He’s also so far out of my league, it’s not even funny. My sister, on the other hand? “Goldie’s type, for sure.”

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