Page 24 of Crave Thy Neighbor

“Huh?” I let my finger off the trigger of my welder and swing around to my co-worker, Jake, then push my face shield up and remove the respirator I always wear. “What’s up?”

Jake is probably one of my closest friends outside of Dean…which is kind of sad when I think about it because we’ve only hung out outside of work a handful of times in the five years I’ve worked with him.

“Man, you must have really been zoning out. We tried to get your attention twice.”

“Sorry, Jake. Just tired.” After getting an early start yesterday morning, I stayed up too late last night watching some true crime documentary I couldn’t shut off.

“Totally get it. We were wanting to know if you want to grab some lunch.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“Gonna hit up that diner around the corner.”

“The Gravy Train?”

He nods. “Yep. You in?”

Oftentimes I’m the guy who sits in the bed of his truck with a book and a sandwich, ignoring the rest of the world. But hearing the wordgravyhas my stomach rumbling for something better than two slices of bread and meat slapped together.

Jake chuckles. “I heard that shit from here, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

I pull my gloves off, tucking them into my pocket. “Meet you guys there?”

He nods. “Sounds good.”

I finish cleaning up my area, knowing better than to leave my equipment lying around even if the area is monitored by security.

I learned a long-ass time ago not to trust anyone, especially the ones you’re supposed to trust.

I toss my tools into the back seat of my truck, then strip off my heat-resistant jacket and exchange it for a dark blue flannel before climbing into the driver’s seat.

It’s a quick drive to the diner, and I’m pulling into the small public parking lot up the block no less than ten minutes later. I hop out and make my way along the street to the old train depot turned popular diner.

The Gravy Train is one of the best places in the whole city, and everyone knows it. Hell, even when I lived on the outskirts of town, I’d come here at least once a week to grab a slice of the pies they’re famous for.

With me living so close now, my trips are admittedly more frequent.

I pull open the door and something smacks right into my chest.

No. Not something.

Someone.

Followed closely by a freezing liquid soaking into my flannel.

“Oh crap!” comes a soft voice. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” The woman juggles the tray of coffees, then dips her head, reaching into her purse. She produces a huge wad of napkins and starts pressing them to the mess. “I’m such a klutz. I—Nolan?”

Maya.

She steps back, tilting her head up to get a better look at me.

Fucking hell.

I’d hoped the next time I saw her, she wasn’t going to be as pretty as I remembered.

But fuck me if she isn’t even more gorgeous than before.

She’s peering up at me with her alarming gray eyes, and her dark lashes look even longer than they did the other night. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a mix of surprise and pleasure in her gaze.

---