“No thanks, darlin’,” Wyatt says, keeping his voice softer than usual.
I don’t bother looking up at her, instead, I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. When I do, the man across from us, his gaze comes over and I watch as his eyes zero in on my hand wrapped around hers. Something ugly crosses his face, as he lifts his gaze to mine. Instead of removing my hand, I keep it in place and give him a cocky grin.
Fuck him.
He looks like a weasel motherfucker. “I’m good, babe,” I grunt, keeping my eyes on his.
She doesn’t move, she stays frozen. Tearing my eyes from the fucker, I look over to her. I expect her to be staring at him, still but she isn’t. She’s looking down at me. Her smile is shaky, but she aims one in my direction and I feel fucking ten-feet tall.
“You okay?” I chance asking, keeping my voice low.
She nods once, slowly. I watch as she presses her lips together, her eyes staying glued to my own. “I will be,” she whispers.
I don’t want to, but I release her wrist. I watch her walk toward the back and slip into the kitchen. “Trouble. You love it don’t you?” Wyatt asks.
“That the douche she’s mixed up with?” I ask, picking up the syrup and pouring it all over my stacked hotcakes.
Chuckling, Wyatt shoves some eggs in his mouth. “That’s the rumor.”
I glance over to the table again. He’s no longer watching me, his gaze is pointed at the woman across from him. She’s pretty, a bit plain but I’d fuck her if she spread. He smiles and I notice it’s all teeth, all fake.
I know what a weasel and predator looks like. Been around them my whole fuckin’ life, locked up with hundreds of them for five years. This motherfucker is dirty, and I have no doubt that he’s a sick piece of shit on top of it all.
I’m going to figure it out, find out what he did to her. Then I’m going to take her pain away. She should never look like her world is torn to shreds. She should always smile. Always. She should never tremble out of obvious fear or being upset, only out of anticipated pleasure.
Looking back at the closed kitchen door, I decide that I can’t just leave her alone. No way in fuck. Once I get my shit in order, I’m going after this gorgeous girl. I’m going to make her mine.
CHANNING
Lulamae gives me another look. “I got your table, but honey, either you press charges against this asshole, or you may want to just leave town. He’s going to keep following you around,” she announces.
Nodding, I agree. However, I can’t do either. I don’t have any money to leave town. I can’t press charges either. I was eighteen when we were together, and sure it was unethical, but all it would get was him fired. Then he’d be even angrier with me.
I need to attempt to ignore him, to move on with my life, to take care of my baby. The tattooed man, his hand—his touch, crosses my mind. Lifting my wrist, I wrap my fingers around where he’d just held me. His fingers were rough, not soft, but I can’t deny that I liked them against my skin.
There was something in his eyes, something dangerous, yet, gentle. “Lula?” I ask.
She stops, two plates in her hands ready to deliver. “That man, the one with the tattoos. What’s his name?” I chance.
She sighs, looking disappointed in me. “Rylan Lindsay. He’s too old for you, and too much trouble, girl,” she states as her warning. I watch her turn and march out to deliver her food.
After hiding out in the kitchen for far too long, I walk out and get back to work. I’m glad, yet a little disappointed at the same time, to see that Rylan and Wyatt are gone. Shifting my glance over to where James and Jenifer were seated, I hold my breath as I watch them stand to their feet.
James glances over at me, it’s cold and hard, full of anger and malice. He walks away, thankfully without a word. He and Jennifer make their way outside and I watch every step. When they walk by a pickup truck, I look into the cab and my breath hitches.
Rylan and Wyatt are both sitting in the truck, their eyes on James and Jennifer. They sit, unmoving as they watch James and Jennifer load up in their own car. When their car is in reverse, only then does the truck move.
“Trouble,” Lulamae reminds me.
I nod. “Yeah,” I breathe.
Trouble.
If he’s trouble, he’s possibly the best kind of trouble I’ve ever seen before in my life. Shaking my head, I get back to work. He’s sweet, and I appreciate him and Wyatt looking out for me, but that’s all it can be. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing.
Once my shift is finished, I walk over to the phone behind the drinking fountain machine and dial my doctor’s number. I’ve avoided it for a week. I know I’m pregnant, it’s not a secret, but getting confirmation, that terrifies me.
Also, the fact that I don’t have any kind of insurance is scary too. I’ll do what I need to, for this baby though. I’ve already fallen in love with it, already bonded. It’s mine. Nobody else’s, but mine. James doesn’t want it, and although it hurts, I’m honestly okay with that.
Having the past two-weeks without any contact with James has done wonders for my state of mind. He doesn’t want us. That’s fine. He also doesn’t want the burden of being financially responsible for either of us. I am okay with that, too. I grew up not knowing my father, and my mother not receiving a dime from him. It was tough, but we survived. Granted not always well, but we did.
I’ll be different from my mother, I’ll be better. I won’t parade men in and out of my house. I won’t drink or shoot shit into my body. I will be loving, kind, and caring. I will work my fingers to the bone for this child. I will be the best mother I can be, no matter how tired I am.
“Dr. Chapman’s office,” the receptionist calls out.
Clearing my throat, I tell her I’m pregnant and estimate how many weeks. She hums, then makes me an appointment for next Friday. In one week I’ll get the official confirmation that the life inside of me is real, is there and is growing.
After hanging up the phone, I leave the diner. Once I’m in my car, I start the engine, but I don’t go home. I need to go grocery shopping and luckily I have enough in tip money to splurge a little tonight, maybe even buy some ice cream for myself.
Driving down Main Street, I pull into a parking spot. Shifting the car into park, I look ahead of me. Dandelions & Dragons. It’s the local baby boutique. I’ve never ventured inside, never needed to before. I do now. I have a very big reason to go inside.
Wiping my hands on my jeans, I inhale then exhale before I head for the front door. Once I’m inside I’m greeted by hundreds of little baby knickknacks. Little clothes, shoes, bibs, socks—they’re everywhere.
“Hello, can I help you with something?” a voice asks behind the counter.
I turn toward her, and smile, that smile turns shaky when I realize who is standing there. “Hey Avery,” I call out with a wave.
Slowly, I make my way toward her, forcing my feet to move. I went to high school with Avery, and while we weren’t best friends, we were friendly. I just know that after this moment, everybody in town will know my situation. Every single person. It was going to happen, eventually, I just wasn’t ready for it to happen today.