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“I know, but it’s silly to waste all that time driving. I’ll just be sure to drink a few glasses of wine on the plane.”

“That’s the spirit.” He kissed the top of his wife’s head and headed out of the kitchen, hands piled with plates and silverware.

A flying towel smacked Anna in the face. “Hey, what was that for?”

“For being a tattle tale.” Pam stood with her hands on her hips but there was a shadow of a smile on her face, belying her anger.

“It’s not like he didn’t know you’re afraid to fly.”

“But not to the point I’m still obsessing over it. I don’t want him to think he’s married to a looney toon.”

“Being afraid to fly does not make you a looney toon. Millions of people share that same phobia. And just remember, statistically speaking, flying is safer than driving.”

“I know you’re right but phobias aren’t rational. If you had one, you’d understand.”

“Does being afraid of bees count?” Anna threw her a playful smile.

“No. And you’re lucky I don’t have another towel or I’d throw that one at you too for being a smartass.”

“Like mother, like daughter.” Anna grinned.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Like mother, like daughter.” Her grin turned into a laugh.

∞∞∞

It wasn’t until the following Monday that Anna saw Mr. M again. It was late, close to closing time, and Gail was out back, taking yet another break, so Anna was busy not only waiting on hers but also the other woman’s tables. Even so, she was secretly pleased to see him slip into his usual booth.

Finished taking an order from two teens, she grabbed the coffee pot and a mug and hurried to his table. His head was turned as she approached, staring out the window as was his norm, and she set down the cup, filling it three quarters of the way with coffee.

“Your usual?”

“Yes… please.” He picked up the creamer and added some to his coffee.

He didn’t elaborate so she turned to go. Seeing Gail had come back in, she slipped into the back to get the very generous yet unwanted tip money from her purse, all the while, psyching herself up for the encounter. She wasn’t great with confrontation on a good day, add in a hot guy she had a semi crush on and the whole thing could be a disaster. Shoving the money into her apron pocket, she promised herself she would be confident, assertive, and, most importantly, composed.

Making her way back up front, she stopped to dish up his pie before proceeding to his table. She set the plate down in front of him and then, before she could lose her nerve, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the money, sliding her fisted hand across the table.

With reflexes so fast she didn’t even see him move, his hand covered hers before she had a chance to drop the money and pull away. Tingles raced up her arm as she watched, mesmerized, as he lightly captured her wrist and turned her hand over, revealing the wadded bills peeking through her fingers.

His eyes flew up to collide with hers. “What’s this?”

Held spellbound by those piercing blues, her heart started to race at his continued stare. She licked her lips and it was a relief when she lost hisintense focus for the brief moment his gaze darted down to follow the action, his nostrils flaring, before returning to stare into her eyes once more.

Her throat tightened but she still managed to croak, “I can’t accept it.”

She unfurled her fingers, offering the money, but he didn’t make a move to take it, nor did he release her wrist.

Trying to remember her pep talk, she swallowed past the dryness in her throat and stressed, “It’s too much.”

He still didn’t say anything, but he did use his free hand to curl her fingers back around the money.

She tried to protest. “Really, I ca—”

His eyes blazed as he cut her off. “Keep it.” His words were direct and the meaning behind his tone was very clear—there would be no arguing with him.

But for her own self-respect, she couldn’t give up. “Please.”

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