Page 8 of Resisting Mr. Fancy Pants

“Mr. Fancy Pants?”

“Is that what you call him?” Her eyes crinkled with amusement. “He is hotter than a bonfire.” She leaned in. “He seemed disappointed I wasn’t you. You should go for it.”

She and I weren’t close, mostly because she had three jobs and I had a kid. Our schedules never lined up for us to hang out. So I didn’t tell her a thing. Gossip was huge in our town, with little else to do. I shrugged in response.

She shrugged back. “If you don’t, someone else will.”

“You should go for it,” I said and realized too late the spurt of jealousy I felt.

“He’s good-looking and all, but I like my men a little more rugged.” She winked, and I took it to mean she was into cowboys, not gentlemen. “And don’t forget to give me my share of the tip,” she said, angling her head in the businessman’s direction.

“Sure thing.”

She left, and it wasn’t long before it was only Smiley, me and the businessman who were left in the diner.

I got to work filling salt and pepper shakers and other condiments to prepare for the lunch crowd. When I neared table eleven, Mr. Fancy Pants said, “Another refill on coffee, please.”

Leisurely, I went for the pot. Tongue in cheek, I held back a grin to match his when I returned and poured a fresh cup for him.

“You disappeared on me last night,” he said, his voice as smooth as satin.

“It was for the best,” I said, and moved to wipe down a different booth.

“You are so bad for my ego,” he said with a hand to his heart.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure someone else will blow it up.”

“Is that a good thing or bad?” he asked.

“Up to your interpretation,” I said before heading to the back.

“Is that guy still here?” Smiley asked when I walked in. I nodded. “We don’t get many like him, so don’t piss him off.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I know that.”

When I went back, his booth was empty, but once again, the businessman had left a generous tip. My feelings were mixed. I’d kind of enjoyed our back-and-forth exchanges.

He was there every day the following few weeks, but he said little more to me than asking for coffee. I shouldn’t have been disappointed. I’d been the one to shoot him down. Still, he’d given in so easily. That could only mean that he hadn’t really been interested in me at all.

Friday morning came and Zoe woke up sick. Smiley wasn’t happy I had to call out, and neither was my wallet. But my girl was burning with fever. Tylenol wasn’t doing its job. I had to give her a tepid bath to try to bring her temperature down. When she wouldn’t eat and barely drank, I decided that I’d have to take her to the doctor, even though my budget had no room for the expense.

“Mommy,” Zoe whimpered, breaking my heart into a million pieces.

I brushed the hair from her brow when a knock sounded at my door.

“Just a minute,” I called out. To Zoe, I said, “I’m going to take you to the doctor, okay?”

She nodded.My poor baby,I thought as I went to see who could possibly be at my door.

“Hello,” I said and then stopped.

“Hi,” the businessman from the door said. “I’m Agan. I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you here… Agan?”

“I missed you this morning and Smiley said you called out sick.”

“And what, you’ve been stalking me? How did you know where I live?”

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