Page 76 of Dining for Love

Okay, the door is locked. Happy now?

Very.

Chapter 23

Willa

IHAVEN’T WAITED tables in a good six weeks—not since I first met Reid, come to think of it—but I’m out front again today. Goldie’s out of town and it’s September, so things are on their way back toward off-season busy instead of insane summer busy. Happily, we’re never fully quiet here at the diner, and that’s just how I like it. The busier the better, actually.

Except when I’m waiting tables. And then, I’ll take a desert. I don’t understand how people can just walk around with a tray full of food or drinks and simply…not drop them. Like, how is that possible?

And yet, it’s possible for everyone except me.

We’re in the middle of the lunch rush when Officer Thompson comes in by himself and has a seat at one of the booths.

I’m a little annoyed, if I’m being honest. He’s by himself and taking up a four-top? Inconsiderate ass. Though, to be sure, he’s always been that way. Which still doesn’t excuse him. Not by a long shot.

I grab the coffee and a cup before heading his way, setting the cup down and filling it. “How are you, Officer?”

He grunts. “Patty melt with fries and onion rings. And a water.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m fine, Willa. Thanks for asking. And how are you?”

He blinks up at me.

I smile back at him. “Conversation in polite society. You remember how that goes?”

He blinks again.

“Guess that’s a no. Got it!” I say breezily, then turn away.

Mom’s eyes are wide as I walk behind the counter to call the order out to Dad and hang the ticket on the wheel. “Willa Dean Dash!” she whisper-hisses.

“What?” I ask.

“Since when do you talk like that to, well, toanyone, let alone one of our men in uniform?”

I open my mouth to object, but close it. She’s right. “Huh. Guess that’s new, isn’t it?” I fill a glass with ice and water for Thompson, then toast Mom with it.

I keep moving, trying not to drop anything or trip over my own two feet. Not ten minutes later, Officer Thompson’s food is ready. I grab it and begin walking it to the booth, then slow. Another man with slicked-back hair has joined him. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him. He smiles as I get close, but it’s more of a leer as he sweeps his eyes up and down my body.

Ew.

“Patty melt with fries,” I announce as I set the plate down, “and a side of onion rings,” and place the other down.

“And who is this pretty little thing?” Creepy Man drawls.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll have to forgive him.” Officer Thompson’s gaze never leaves his table mate. “He doesn’t seem to have manners.”

The creep doesn’t appear to be bothered by Thompson in the slightest. He slithers out of the booth, forcing me to step backand nearly fall into the table behind me, as he leers again. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” His breath is stale as he winks at me.

I try not to gag.

“Box this up.” Officer Thompson gestures at his plate as the other guy leaves.

I stare at the cop and remind myself that he’s a customer. Nah, screw it. “The word you’re looking for is ‘please’.”

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