Page 16 of Damien
“How do you know if you haven’t tried? Sure, you may end up with a few frogs, but how else are you supposed to find your prince?”
“I’m far from being a princess,” I deadpan.
Margo’s quiet for an unnecessarily long moment, but her mind is spinning. I’ve seen her calculating look a million times, so I know she’s up to something. She’s biting on her lower lip, and her eyes are so scrunched together, I swear she’s going to need Botox at a young age to rectify her wrinkles.
Then suddenly, she smiles.
When she finally turns her attention to me, her face becomes unreadable and frankly, it makes me a little scared. What the hell is she plotting?
“You’re seriously telling me thatno onehas asked you out worthy of dating?”
Yep—my thoughts drift back to Damien, and I’m sure my face gives something away. Her perfectly arched brow tells me not to feed her any more BS.
“Well… maybe…” I admit.
Confusion fills her features. “Maybe what? You’ve either been asked out, or you haven’t?”
Cringing, I admit in a weak voice, “Maybe I was asked out this week… but I had to turn him down because of the party today.” Maybe she can help me figure this out.
“Explain.”
“Well, there’s this guy who comes into the diner regularly…” Margo nods, encouraging me to continue. “He’s in town for the next year or so, working on the new family housing complex for the university. I swear, Margo, when he even enters the diner, I can feel him before I see him,” I start but realize I may have revealed too much. Quickly, I continue, hoping she might not notice, “But anyway… a few days ago, he abruptly left the diner and left his debit card. Thinking he might need it, I dropped it by his work site. Then when he came in next, he asked if I was busy today… of course I was… and I said so.”
“Why didn’t you suggest another day?”
I hadn’t even thought of that.
Instead of revealing that, I add, “But he premised it with, ‘I’d like to thank you for dropping off my debit card…’ Isn’t that… a pity date?”
“What the fuck is a pity date?” Margo hisses at me.
“Uggh…” I huff out exasperatedly. “I thought he was only being nice because I did him a favor. When he found out I was busy… so I told him no worries, we’re all good because I didn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything with me.”
Margo holds up a hand to get me to stop my rambling. “Wait. Let’s back up a step. First of all… how old is this guy if he’s working for some construction company?”
“Uh, he’s twenty-six, and he’s the lead engineer on the project,” I admit.
“You seem to know a lot about him—for just being a customer.”
Well, I pay attention. If she knew what he looked like, she’d pay attention, too.
But I’m not telling her that. Though I do admit, “We’ve talked when he comes in and sits at the counter.”
“Just how often does he come in?”
This question throws me, so I stop to think it over.
“Uh… he’s there at almost every one of my shifts since he moved to town a month or so ago.”
“Vanny… I love you, and you’re one of the smartest people I know… but God, you’re dense. The guy clearly likes you if he’s showing up nearly every morning. Even if he’s a bachelor who doesn’t like to cook, I highly doubt he’d show up every day just for the food.”
“You think so?”
The look I receive clearly screams,duh.
“And don’t think I missed the fact that you feel him before you see him. You obviously like him, too. I’ve never heard you say that about anyone—though to be fair, you don’t give yourself the chance. But think of it this way… what would you tell me to do if the roles were reversed?”
That brat. She knows exactly what advice I’d give.
