Last Chance At The Someday Café. Angel Smits

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СКАЧАТЬ shook his head. “Guess I’m tired.” He rubbed his eyes. “I need to get some shut-eye.” Then he smiled. His eyes sparkled and a tiny dimple grew in his left cheek. Tara stared, frozen by the sight of him. What would it feel like to have that smile aimed at her?

      Wendy repeated her offer.

      “No, thanks.” Morgan set down the cup. “I’ve gotta run. Good breakfast. Thanks.” He nodded, tossing the folded newspaper onto the counter for someone else to read. A ball cap sat at his elbow. He settled it over his close-cropped hair, the wide brim hiding his eyes from Tara’s view and shadowing the rest of his face.

      Before turning to leave, he flipped a couple bills on the counter, then stood and shoved his wallet into the back pocket of a worn pair of jeans. Her gaze followed.

      Tara watched every move. Moments ticked by until she realized she was staring openly at his backside. Shaking her head, she forced herself to look away. Focus on something—anything—else.

      “See you tomorrow?” the waitress asked hopefully, her gaze darting meaningfully to Tara.

      Tara tore her gaze away from them, forcing herself to focus on the deposits. And to try to control her breathing. It should be against the law for a man to wear a T-shirt that fit so well. Wasn’t there some kind of ordinance?

      “Maybe. Depends on my load.” His voice dipped low. How the hell did he make it reach deep inside her?

      He looked up then, his gaze reaching out beyond the shadowed hat brim and finding hers. Tara stared back, knowing she should look away, but unable to do so.

      Her breath caught, and she tried to release it.

      Then he was gone, the glass door closing quietly in his wake.

      “Wonder why he’s in such a toot?” Wendy asked, sidling up to Tara, as if she knew more than she was saying.

      Tara shrugged, forcing her face not to show her own curiosity. Wendy didn’t need any more encouragement.

      “He doesn’t owe us any explanations.” Tara cringed at the breathy sound of her own voice.

      “Maybe not you.” Wendy grinned. “I need to know.”

      “Why is that, exactly?”

      “I’m determined to fix him up with you. It won’t work if he’s not here.”

      “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Tara turned away, her hands full of receipts, her cheeks warm for a reason she refused to identify. “Don’t start that. We’ve been over this. I’m not interested.” She headed into the kitchen.

      Wendy followed her. “Your words say that, but I saw the way you looked at him.”

      “You’re imagining things.” Tara shoved open the office door with her hip, hoping Morgan hadn’t seen her gawking at him. Which she hadn’t been doing. Not really. It was her job, after all, to keep an eye on things. “We’ve got work to do.” She set the papers on the desk, ignoring the raised eyebrow from her waitress.

      Thankfully, Wendy took the hint—this time—and went back to work.

      It was easy to decide to focus on work, but while her hands separated the receipts into neat little stacks, Tara’s mind wasn’t as easily distracted. Where was he going? What was he doing here? She’d noticed on her walk back from the street fair that his truck didn’t have a logo that told her where he was based. That wasn’t unusual. Lots of the truckers who came in were independents. But none of them came in more than a day at a time.

      Truckers didn’t stay in one place for long, always on the way to or from someplace else. He’d been here the last couple days and spent time at the street fair. Why was he sticking around?

      “You’re thinking about him,” Wendy said softly from the doorway.

      Besides being startled, Tara was irritated with her employee. “Cut it out. And stop pushing me at him. I’m. Not. Interested.”

      Not sure who she was trying to convince more, she booted up the computer and stared at the spreadsheet. That would surely keep her busy for the next hour or more. She had to do something.

      The loud crash in the alley sent both of them rushing to the back door.

      “Ricky’s back,” Wendy said unnecessarily. The staff had christened the pesky raccoon, and the name had stuck.

      “In the middle of the day?” She and Wendy stepped into the alley. Raccoons were nocturnal animals. “Not likely.”

      “Then what?”

      “Meoooooww!” A big gray tomcat, its fur matted, dirty and soaking wet, sat on the top of the brand-new, tipped-over trash can, pawing on the—thankfully—still-latched lid.

      This was not happening again. What was with all these animals?

      Tara rubbed her forehead. At this rate, she was never going to get the bills paid.

      * * *

      MORGAN LEFT THE diner before he ended up staying there all day. He couldn’t. It would be a mistake.

      He walked slowly through the rain, across the worn flagstones of Tara’s patio. Even though he knew the stones had been there since well before Tara had bought this place, he thought of them as hers.

      Today they were washed clean by the raindrops, but a year ago? An article in this morning’s paper had commemorated the wildfire that had raged through this valley last year.

      He remembered hearing about the damage and the efforts that had gone into helping the people who’d lost so much. Some of his crew had trucked in loads of relief supplies. He’d been too distracted with his own loss to be any good to anyone.

      Had these stones been blackened with smoke and ash? Had they escaped damage simply because they were stone that couldn’t burn?

      Looking up at the rooflines of the buildings along the street, he realized they were old, as well, so perhaps the fire hadn’t touched this area.

      A year. So much had changed in that year. The fire. Tara buying this place. Sylvie stealing Brooke away. The knot in his chest that never seemed to go away grew just a little bit tighter.

      Time had dulled the pain, but nothing would erase it, not until he found Brooke.

      Brooke.

      She’d had another birthday since he’d last seen her. Surely last year’s gift, the purple dragon, was worn out by now. He’d bought her another gift, which was nestled in the lower cabinet in his truck. He carried it everywhere, just in case he found her.

      So close. He was so close. He could feel it. The jerk at the street fair yesterday had led Morgan on a merry chase through town. Twice he’d thought the guy was going to stop and lead him to Sylvie or Brooke. Instead, it had been nothing more than a wild-goose chase.

      Cold rain slipped down the back of his collar, reminding him that he didn’t have time to slide down this rabbit hole. Morgan glanced at his watch. He had a phone conference with Jack in an hour. He might be on the road, but he needed СКАЧАТЬ