She snorted. “I would if he wasn’t a cop. Not sure any judge would give it to me.”
My brows rose. “He’s a cop?”
She pressed her hands to her face. “He’s honestly not bad. Like, truly, he’s not bad. At least, he wasn’t before. He’s never been like this, and I have no clue why he’s chasing me around like I’m something precious he lost. We haven’t talked in months. I haven’t spoken more than five words to him in that time, and pretty much, we’ve just been roommates. Like, I can’t even tell you the last time I had sex… or why the hell I’m telling a complete stranger about my love life.”
My grin spread wide before I said, “I feel like we really bonded back at the bar. You know my entire story…”
She smiled, and her eyes went to the small diner across the street.
The woman standing in the window reached up and turned on the light that said ‘OPEN.’
“Want to grab something to eat?” she asked.
I looked at my watch to see that it was now five in the morning.
I’d left the bar at half past two.
We’d been riding for two and a half hours.
The thought of having a reason not to drive her home sounded like a fantastic idea.
“Sounds perfect,” I admitted. “Let’s go.”
I hung the nozzle up and we rode to the diner where we were the only occupants of the entire lot.
Once we were seated, she lifted the menu and started to peruse it.
I looked at mine as well, wondering if she would think it was weird when I ordered two meals for myself.
“I hope that you don’t find this weird, but…” She hesitated. “I’m going to order an entire meal, and then order a hamburger. I’m starving. I have my purse, too, so you don’t have to think I’m swindling you. I pay my own way.”
I snorted and said, “That’s good, because I was literally about to order two myself.”
I’d address the ‘I pay my own way’ thing later.
After we ordered, and our drinks were set down in front of us, along with a giant basket of biscuits, we both started to tear into them.
It was only about four biscuits in for me, and three for her, that we both sat back with satisfied groans.
That, and there were only seven biscuits in the basket.
“I better not ask for more or I won’t eat my meal,” she admitted, looking at the basket of biscuits on another woman’s table. “I’m going to have to do extra work at the gym later.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and took in her upper half.
From what I could see—which admittedly wasn’t much since she was wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt—she did look to be in shape.
“Where do you work out?” I asked curiously.
She curled her lip. “Home. Or used to. That ex-boyfriend I was avoiding all night? He had a home gym that I used. But ever since we split, I haven’t been doing anything but running, and God, I hate running. It’s the bane of my existence.”
I chuckled. “My gym is on First Street. It’s nothing pretty to look at or anything, but it has all the equipment. But they don’t have AC, so that’s something that you’re going to have to consider if you’re interested in working out there.”
She shrugged her shoulder, causing the baggy t-shirt she was wearing to slip slightly, revealing a black sports bra.
She absently yanked it back up over her shoulder and said, “Honestly, I don’t really care if it’s hot. I mean, you’re supposed to be sweating, right? So yeah, that wouldn’t bother me. What would bother me if it’s in a bad part of town, or if it’s not lit well… a single lady has to be careful. Even if I’m fit, I’m not strong enough to fight off an attacker.”
I tilted my head. “Had experience with that?”
She shrugged. “Once or twice.”
I wanted to ask her more about that subject, but she looked like that was a hard ‘hell no’ so I chose to change the subject completely.
“You recently broke up with your boyfriend… have you had any luck finding accommodations?” I paused. “Because let me tell you, I haven’t. I’ve had a fucking really hard time. I’m talking, living with my ex for the last six months kind of hard time. And I’m about to pull my fucking hair out.”
Her eyes widened. “I haven’t had a chance to look… but you’re not inspiring any confidence in me when you speak like that.”
I shook my head. “I know fuckin’ everyone in this town. There’s not a single apartment to be had in this entire godforsaken city. Ever since that stupid TikTok video came out…”
She knew what TikTok video I was talking about.
A TikTok douche had come to our town and shown our secrets—i.e., our lake, our beautiful area, our badass hiking trails, and mountain bike trails. Then, when he’d shared that stupid video on the damn internet, everybody and their fuckin’ brother had flocked here. Now, we had more people than we had housing, trash was dirtying up our lake and our trails, and I was getting more and more upset by the second.
The woman looked at me with disgust, and it was then that I realized that I’d never caught her name.
“I purposefully chose this specific area because it wasn’t anywhere near where I work,” she grumbled. “And I have seen more people, and more trash, and more phones and cameras and posing girls, than I have wanted to ever see.”
I tilted my head to look at her curiously. “Where do you work?”
And what the hell is your name?
“I work for the airlines in Dallas,” she admitted. “Started there about four years ago as an ‘in-between’ job, and it ended up being way more than that.”
“As a flight attendant?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yep. I meant it to be for a ‘little while’ and it ended up being my ‘all the time’. I wouldn’t say that I want to continue to do it for the rest of my life, but it’s definitely something that I want to do until I find something that really piques my interest. Plus, it allows me to travel whenever I want to. Wherever I want to. If I see a shift that needs picked up to the Bahamas, then I pick it up and enjoy it for a day before leaving.” She tilted her head. “What do you do?”
This was the hated question.
People always wanted career guys.
People wanted someone that had a career path in mind and was working to better themselves.
But that wasn’t me.
I liked making my own hours. I liked doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.
Hence the reason I’d chosen my particular career path.
“I own a yard maintenance business,” I admitted.
Her brows rose. “Really? I thought that was more of a kid thing. Is there any money in it?”
I snorted. “Fuckton. I have forty yards that me and my crew do every week. Most of them are no less than four hundred dollars. I also do landscaping, pool maintenance, and dirt work. I’m a busy fuckin’ bee and make a shit ton of money doing whatever the fuck I want to do. If I don’t want to work that day, my crew takes my yard. Easy peasy.”
She pointed at the table and then said, “Kind of like right now. If you don’t happen to get to bed until seven in the morning, you can sleep the day away and not feel bad about what you’re doing?”