Page 41 of Dining for Love

“Join us for some coffee?” Agatha asks.

I wiggle my keys in the air. “I’ve got brunch duty this morning, can’t.”

Reid jogs over to me, his eyes roaming my body appreciatively. “Hi,” he murmurs.

I squirm at the attention, despite my own ogling and full-on entry into the Objectification Hall of Fame. Between that and the reminder that he’s leaving, it’s hard to meet his eyes. “Hi.”

He chuckles softly. “Don’t make it weird, Willa.”

I cover my face with my hands and groan, the memory of whatIdid after whathedid overtaking every other thought in my head. “Kinda hard not to when I apparently passed out after you, you know.” My voice drops on the last two words, as if my body is physically manifesting how embarrassed I was.

Am. How embarrassed Iam. Ugh. Since meeting the man, I’ve banged my head, played a crap game of hide and seek, nearly passed out, and now we can addfell asleep after the most intense orgasm of her lifeto the list.

My awkwardness clearlyknows no bounds.

Reid shifts closer and I catch his scent, and of course, it’s still amazing, even though it’s tinged with sweat from his run. “Hey,” he whispers, tipping my chin up and forcing me to meet his gaze. His finger is calloused, but his eyes are soft, the rings of deep forest green shining in the morning sun. “I loved every moment of it. Seeing you come undone, listening to the sounds you make when you’re about to come, watching the way you writhe with my mouth on your pussy. It was heaven.”

Oh my God. “Reid!” I hiss, burying my face in my hands again.

He laughs louder. “I absolutely adore flustering you, Willa Dean Dash.” He leans down to peck me on the cheek. “Now, let’s get me Midnight so you can go to work.”

Goldie knows something is up the second she sees me from her perch at the counter rolling silverware. “Willa Dean Dash!” she hisses, waving me over. “Did you…oh my gosh! You and Reid?—”

I clap a hand over her mouth and shush her. “Dad is literally feet away, and I don’t know where Mom is?—”

“Bathroom,” she mumbles behind my hand.

“And I don’t need either of them to know my business,” I finish, removing my hand and wiping it on my jeans.

Goldie grins. “But did you? Because you’re all…glowy.”

I swear my cheeks are going to be permanently red for as much as I’m blushing. “He, um...”

“Willa, get back here,” Dad calls.

Goldie’s eyes are bright with merriment as she shoos me into the kitchen.

Swinging through the door, I grab an apron and tie it around my waist, then wash my hands. I drop into the comforting pattern of prepping for the morning’s brunch crowd, cracking eggs and slicing tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, and onions, and, of course, wiping away the stray tears that accompany the diced onions. I pull the first ten loaves of bread from the back, liningthem against the wall for easy access, and listen to Dad complain about his knees.

“You need a vacation, Dad.” It’s the response I always give him when he starts to complain. I know better than to tell him to retire because that’s a no-go. He and Mom are still young, only in their sixties, and not yet ready to be finished with the diner. And I’m not ready for them to be finished, either. I love working beside them and my sister. Maybe most people would break out in hives at the idea of working so closely with their family, but I love it. I love getting to hear about the rest of their days outside the diner and listen to their quiet bickering over this and that. And other than Matty, Goldie is my best friend. I can’t imagine not having her in my daily orbit. There’s so much to love about them and this town.

Dad chooses this exact moment to ask how my night went, and Goldie pipes up, “Yeah, Willa, how’d last night go?”

I shoot her a death glare through the window. “Good. Had a nice day off.”

“Reid came over,” Goldie coos meaningfully.

“He did?” Mom reappears, her voice full of excitement.

Dad harrumphs.

I blush.

“He’s such a nice young man,” Mom says.

“Talented, too,” Goldie piles on.

I’m going to kill her later.

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