The Runaway (Barrett Boys #1) - Jordan Ford Page 0,11
eyes, so brown they’re basically black, tell me I better watch my step.
“Now, can I please have two root beers for Booth Three?” I know that’s what Franks and Billy will want, so I can save face and pretend I at least took their drinks order.
Dean grumbles something under his breath and disappears behind the bar. I wait by the archway, scanning the diner to make sure no one needs me. Mr. and Mrs. Yates are finishing up their meal, but they don’t look in a hurry to leave. I love the way her wrinkled hand sits inside of his, resting on the table like the idea of letting go of one another is just crazy talk. I wonder what that kind of love feels like. I doubt I’ll ever know. When I’m old, gray and wrinkled, I’ll probably still be waiting these damn tables.
My throat burns as I grind my teeth together and try to shoo the thought away.
“Here you go.” Dean appears behind me, shoving a tray into my hands so the liquid sloshes over the rim of the glasses. “Nothin’s on the house.”
I give him a toxic smile. I’m not sure what it looks like, but his glare tells me I’m on thin ice. I spin away from him before he can make me say “sir” again.
7
A Side of Hella Hot Guy
My heart feels like it’s been stomped on by a rodeo bull as I place the two root beers down and pull out my ordering pad.
“What’s your flavor tonight, Franks?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and I glance up from the pad to catch her pointed blue-eyed stare. It’s so like mine I sometimes wonder how we can’t be sisters. But she’s got the reckless chestnut curls, a heart-shaped face and hourglass curves I’d kill for. Unlike her D-cup, I’m an A. Straight and shapeless. Everything about me screams skinny stick figure, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.
“What?” I shoot her a look of my own, which makes her head tip to the side. “Stop looking at me like that. Did you not want root beer?”
“Of course I want root beer. What I also want is for Dean to show you a shred of respect. I saw his face before he pulled you round the corner. He was barkin’ at you for somethin’.”
“Franks, we’ve been through this. Don’t go wastin’ breath on a pointless fight. Now, tell me what you want. I’ve got other tables to look after.”
Franks rolls her eyes and nudges Billy to go first.
He starts listing off half the menu, and I scribble the order down. Unlike Franks, Billy likes to mix things up. He never just orders straight off the menu. Each item has a tweak or an adjustment. It drives Mateo nuts, which is why I can’t stop grinning as I write down Billy’s requests.
“And I’ll have…” Franks’s voice trails off as her eyes land on something by the door. “Oh my word. Hello, gorgeous.”
I glance over my shoulder, watching a man disappear through the door to the bathrooms. I don’t see much, just a scrappy leather jacket and a head of brown hair.
“Hey.” Billy nudges Franks, his face bunching with offense.
“I’m not looking for me, baby.” She grabs his chin and kisses him on the mouth. “I’m meaning for her.”
When she tips her head my direction, I roll my eyes. “Like I have time for a guy.”
I tap my pen on the pad and insist she give me her order. She mumbles out a chicken melt on rye with steak fries and extra ketchup. I don’t know why I even bother asking. It’s the same thing every time.
I go back over the order and look between them. “Is that all?”
“Oh, and I’d also like a side of hella hot guy for my best friend.” My glare is met with a smile as Franks gazes right past me. “Annie Mae Birdman, I know you say you don’t have time, but you better make some for this one.”
Billy looks like he’s just sucked on a lemon, and I can’t help myself. I glance over my shoulder one more time. Mr. Leather Jacket is facing me now and my breath hitches… but like, in a good way. He’s… yeah, he’s hella hot. That face looks like it should be on the cover of some magazine—GQ maybe, for one of them Sexiest Man of the Year awards.
Those full, pouty lips, that chin dimple… that face.