Page 84 of Pucking Tangled
Luca’s wordsstruck a cord deep inside of Waylon.
Rookie called him out. Hewasposturing.
He walked into breakfast determined to prove a point. Make a statement.
One that had less to do with Mia and everything to do with the guys and with making himself feel better.
And now he needed to make it right.
So when he found her on the back patio that afternoon with Skeeter’s head in her lap and her brows etched in confusion and stress, he made up his mind.
He was going to check his ego at the door.
Drop the cocky attitude and be raw.
Genuine.
“Hey, Mia,” he said softly, approaching her cautiously.
She looked up at him and smiled, though a bit warily.
“You didn’t come out here to kiss me like some kind of maniac again, did you?”
He chuckled. “Not unless you want me to.”
Mia bit her lip but didn’t answer.
“Nah. That’s really not why I came out here. I wanted to see if you wanted to get out of here for a little bit. Just me and you. Doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy.”
“Why? Are you sure you don’t just want to pick me up and carry me upstairs like a caveman?”
“I think you and I both know that’s not what you want. I realize I’ve been going about this all wrong. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to start over and do it right this time.”
Mia held out her hand and let Waylon take it. He helped her to her feet and she looked him in the eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Way.”
Waylon tookher to a tiny diner about twenty minutes from the house. A hidden gem that he secretly loved.
From the outside, it gleamed with chrome trim under a neon sign that read DJ’s Diner in bright right letters. Inside, a row of red vinyl bar stools lined the counter, each one spinning with a satisfying squeak. The black-and-white checkered floor shone under soft lighting from hanging fixtures. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee and deep-fried deliciousness hung in the air, warm and inviting.
A jukebox glowed in the corner, playing a mix of Elvis, Buddy Holly, and early rock-and-roll. Booths were tucked along the windows, with more of that red vinyl upholstery and little tabletop jukebox selectors that probably hadn’t worked in years but still made people smile. Smaller tables filled the middle of the space in the same 1950’s style. Thewalls were decorated with framed records, vintage Coca-Cola ads, and black-and-white photos of smiling couples in letterman jackets.
Behind the counter, a waitress in a pale pink uniform and matching paper hat called out orders and refilled mugs of coffee. The menu was simple—burgers, fries, milkshakes in tall silver cups, and pies that looked like someone’s grandma had made them fresh that morning.
It was far from fancy, but it didn’t need to be.
“This place is so cute,” Mia mused, her eyes darting around to take everything in. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here. How sad is that?”
Waylon smiled at her. “Pretty cool, huh? I discovered it one day when I was out driving around, trying to see what the area had to offer.”
Tucked away in their own little corner of the diner, they shared laughs over greasy fries and chocolate milkshakes.
They didn’t talk about the others, or their ‘situation’.
He asked her how school was going and listened intently as she talked about what she had left to do before graduation.
“I’ll have to sit for the bar. And then get certified by the NHLPA before I can even really consider taking on clients.”
“Wait, you want to be a sports agent?Shit,Mia. I didn’t realize that. I’m fucking impressed.” He smiled back at her, proudly. “I think I know a few guys who may just need a new agent soon.” To that he wiggled his brows.
