Page 6 of A Billionaire's Holiday Love

Our waitress returned. She placed clean silverware and the last of our order before us.

“Thanks, Delila. You’ll probably see my face in here often over the next month. I’m writing a story about the town.”

Her hands flew over her mouth. “You’re Hope Manning.”

I grinned. “Yes.”

“My brother works for the mayor at City Hall. He said Santa was sending his helper to write a beautiful story about our town, which would draw up more business.”

My heart warmed. “What I’ve seen so far is beautiful. So much more to see. You’ll be the first to read it.”

She ran around the counter and threw her arms around me. “Thank you.” Delila stepped back.

“The townspeople make the bulk of their money between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’ll have more customers than I know what to do with, but the growth would allow me to hire more waitresses.”

“This is your diner?”

“Well, me and my husband’s. He mans the grill and I take care of our customers.”

I peeked over her shoulder. A tall, bulky pale man wearing a red cap over his short blond hair manned the grill in the kitchen. He barked orders to his staff.

“That’s great. I’d like to interview you later this week. If that’s ok?”

“That’s perfect. Enjoy your time with Mr. Hottie.” She darted off to speak to customers nearby before I could tell her I wasn’t enjoying myself talking to him. Or maybe I was.

“Your pie looks good.” I waved a clean fork near his plate.

“So does yours. Do you want to taste it?”

“We can taste each other’s.” I sat my saucer next to his. We sank our forks into the desserts.

I nodded my head as I savored the cinnamon apples and flaky crust.

“So good.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, that sweet potato pie is delicious.”

“Would you like to taste the cinnamon apple beer you disrespected?”

His brows lowered. “No.”

I chugged the beer. “Taste like apple cider mixed with beer. I like it. Stop being stubborn and try it.” I pushed the glass toward him.

“Fine.” He sipped the beer and peeked at me. “It’s ok. Do you always drink beer?”

“Sometimes. I drink Canyon beer, Yuengling, and Bold Rock when I want flavored beer. I wish Canyon had flavors.”

I sank my fork into the sweet potato pie. “Later tonight, I’m drinking vodka. A girl has to keep warm. What better way than with a bottle of Grey Goose.” I laughed.

“That’s where we disagree.”

“We disagree about a lot.”

“We do. But I think whiskey keeps you warmer. It heats your tummy.”

I pointed my fork in his direction. “You may be right. It’s so tough to choke down though.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Are you turning in for the night or taking in more of the stupid red and green Christmas lights around town?”

I chuckled. “Not tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Ok.”

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