The Runaway (Barrett Boys #1) - Jordan Ford Page 0,13
seated in this booth until closing. Then I’ll quietly slip out and fade into the black night. A few people may wonder who that guy was sitting in the back booth, but from what I can tell, most people are too busy eating and talking to each other to even notice me.
They must get the odd traveler passing through town, wanting to take the back roads to wherever they’re going.
That’s what I should probably do.
But where will I go?
Montana.
The word makes me blink, memories both good and bad flooding me.
I don’t want to go there. I can’t.
My throat swells, a thick buzz starting in the back of my brain.
“So, you had a chance to decide what you want?” The waitress is back. The pretty blonde one with the adorable smile and flushed cheeks.
I glance away from her, staring at the glossy pictures. The black words are blurring in front of me and I blink, trying to bring them into focus.
“I’m Annie, by the way. I’ll be looking after you tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?”
“Black coffee,” I rasp, then clear my throat.
She doesn’t seem to notice the fact that I sound like a chain smoker.
Do I look as disgusting as I feel?
Her bright blue eyes smile down at me. “I can do that. No trouble at all.”
I let myself gaze at her for a minute. She’s like a yellow rose. Bright and beautiful. Her skin is milky white, her petite face framed by wisps of pale blonde hair. It looks like fine silk. I bet it feels like it too.
The pads of my fingers start to tickle, and I grip the menu a little tighter.
“Be right back.” She swivels away from me, and my eyes trail down her figure. She’s lean, her blue dress stopping an inch above her knees. I watch her calf muscles flex as she walks, and the way her narrow hips move as she weaves around the tables.
Her short ponytail brushes against the nape of her neck as she grabs a mug and the pot of coffee.
Forcing my eyes back to the menu, I try not to look like I’m checking her out as she walks back. My peripherals do the work for me, and I enjoy the flush of her cheeks as she passes the booth a few down from me.
I don’t know what the patron said, but it made Annie’s petite nose wrinkle on the left side and pulled those small lips into a grin.
Slipping my hand into Johnny’s jacket, I grip the lighter in my fist and watch Annie approach.
“And what can I get you to eat?”
I still haven’t brought the menu into focus and try to hide this fact by asking, “Is there anything you can recommend?”
“Well…” She leans down, a playful smile on her lips when she whispers, “To be honest, the chef we’ve got working tonight…” She makes a face that tells me I’m probably better to stick with coffee alone.
I snicker.
“I don’t usually tell people that, but you seem nice, so I’ll let you in on a secret. The only thing not cooked by that man are the pies we get delivered from the bakery every morning. With a scoop of ice cream, they’re a real treat. So if you’re the type who don’t mind eating sweet for your supper, I’d recommend a slice of cherry. Or the apple’s real good too.”
How cute is she?
I could listen to that Southern drawl all day.
I can’t help a small grin. “I’ll take the apple a la mode.”
“Oh, how French of you.” She winks at me, taking the menu from my hand. “Comin’ right up.”
She kind of skips away from the table, and I’m surprised by how quickly I’m being enchanted by this girl.
She’s different from the ones I’ve spent the last few years around.
There’s a sweet playfulness to her. A purity you don’t find in the world I’ve been living in.
I’m attracted to it like a bee to nectar.
Too bad I can’t stick around and enjoy it for more than one night.
9
The Longest Night in History
The music from the bar continues to pump into the diner, but it’s not bothering me as much as it did before.
Mr. Cute and Quiet is still here. I can’t stop glancing over at him. It’s really bad, and I wish I could control my impulses, but I just have none right now.
Franks is laughing at me. I can tell every time I look her way and she starts wiggling her eyebrows and