Page 20 of Look at Her and Die

I hated him with every fiber of my being, and the last fucking thing I wanted to do was wait on his ass.

However, since he was a consistent customer, and I loved his dad—Mr. Durant was one of my regulars that tipped really well—I chose to deal with Taryn’s bullshit.

Speaking of Mr. Durant, better known as Tony, he followed on Taryn’s heels.

They chatted while I got the place started up, and Tony waited patiently for me to get the coffee finished up while Taryn huffed and puffed.

“What can I get you, Mr. Durant?” I asked, addressing Tony and not Taryn.

The door opened again and a haggard looking young woman came in carrying a car seat with a screaming baby in it.

Taryn narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Great, just what I want to hear when I’m having lunch.”

I didn’t comment, but Tony snapped at his son to ‘control himself.’

The ass.

The third person in the door was my cook, and he shot me an apologetic look as he raced past me to the back of the diner.

The door swung closed as he made his way around the corner.

I got the coffee for Tony, then smiled at the young woman and said, “Just take a seat anywhere.”

She nodded and went to the booth in the corner of the room—which subsequently was where Taryn liked to sit.

I smiled at him next, knowing he was pissed that I didn’t address him first, and said, “You can take a seat anywhere, Taryn.”

He muttered under his breath that I was a ‘bitch’ and took off to a seat that was clear across the room from the screaming baby.

Tony took his coffee outside so he could catch up with a buddy, and I took the woman’s and Taryn’s orders—grilled cheeses.

I handed the order back to the cook and got them started on drinks.

Meanwhile, the baby continued to cry.

I set her cup of Dr Pepper down and said, “Can I walk around with him for a bit?”

I loved kids.

I just didn’t ever think I’d get any of my own.

I wouldn’t be bringing a child into this world when I couldn’t even take care of my siblings.

Then again, I’d have to find time to find a man first.

Speaking of men, the sexy face of the cowboy biker popped into my head, and I had to inwardly fan myself.

“Oh,” the woman was soft spoken. “Sure. If you are okay with holding him?”

I held out my hands and said, “I have four siblings, all of which I helped raise myself. Let me at him.”

She handed over the chunky little boy that looked to be about three or four months old.

The baby continued to cry, but I just turned him around on my shoulder and said, “I’ll just be right over there taking their order.”

Another group of people had walked in during our talk.

The woman looked over and nodded, her face a mask of relief.

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