To delay answering, I bent down to sweep the little bits on the floor into the dustpan. “Nothing you’d be interested in, trust me,” I said when I stood back up and saw him waiting for my response.
“I don’t know about that. Why don’t you try me? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Shaking my head again, I let a self-deprecating moan escape. “Nah. Even my family says the way my brain bounces around is exhausting. I wouldn’t want to expose you to that.”
Creed snorted. “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook for now.” Then he grinned and picked his phone back up.
Instead of standing there like a big dummy, I bustled around finishing up so that we could both get out of here. Once I’d counted my money and checked in with Bobby, who was entertaining a crowd at the other end of the bar, I went back to Creed. “Um, we can go now if you want.”
“Great.” He jumped off the seat with a big smile and gestured toward the doorway. “After you.”
I waved to a couple of the waitresses and the night manager on our way out, and as soon as we were outside, I pointed toward the side lot where employees were required to park. “I’m this way. Thanks for waiting.” I guessed. I still had no idea why he didn’t leave.
“Do you want to go get something to eat?” he asked.
I peered at him suspiciously, crooking my thumb back toward the restaurant. “You just ate.”
“But you”—he pointed at me—“didn’t. So you want to grab something at a diner?”
Stepping back slowly in the direction of my truck, I said, “Uh, I don…I mean, I ate before I came in tonight.”
He followed me, a confident smirk on his face. “Cool. Then let’s go get coffee. I should probably soak up some of this alcohol, though. Can you drive?”
Torn between turning and running for my truck and curiosity why he seemed so determined to spend time with me, I stopped in my tracks. “How did you plan to get home before?”
“I’m calling an Uber once I head home, but it’s silly for us to go separately if we’re going to the same place. Don’t you think?”
“I really need to head home.”
Creed waved me off. “Nope. I heard you tell Bobby that you’re kid-free tonight, which, I want the story there by the way. And you still haven’t told me what you were thinking about when you zoned out sweeping, so you absolutely have to go with me for coffee. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“But why?”
“So we can get to know each other better.”
His gaze stayed focused on my face, his smile didn’t look like it belonged on a serial killer, but one never knew. “But why?”
He lifted his hands at his sides. “Well, Logan, to be friends, you have to spend time with someone and get to know them. You’ve been working all night and need to relax, I’ve been drinking and need to sober up, so if we go for a cup of coffee, it’s a win/win all the way around.”
I considered the man in front of me more seriously. In his designer jeans and baby-blue and white striped short-sleeve button down, he looked like any other preppy twenty-something. He only stood a few inches shorter than me, but his bulk didn’t compare to mine. The flipside being that his mass came all from muscle, and mine was courtesy of heredity and a love for food. That being said, I still think I could hold my own if he attacked me.
Unexpectedly, Creed chuckled. “You’re trying to decide if you could take me down in a fight right now, aren’t you?”
“What? No, of course not,” I denied, mortified that he figured it out.
“Yes, you are. I know that face you’re making. There’s been countless times when I’m out drinking, minding my own business, and some girl checks me out, and then her boyfriend thinks he’s gotta defend his manhood or some shit. There’s also the fact my brother and best friend want to choke me half the time, so yeah, you’re definitely making the, I may have to punch this guy, face.”
Curiosity killed the cat, it’s true. “I’ll bite. Why do your brother and best friend want to kill you?”
Creed ticked off on his fingers as he said, “I’m bossy, I think I know what’s best for everyone I care about, I tend to say inappropriate things, and did I say I’m bossy? Because I am. You’ll find as we get to know each other better that you won’t make it through one night without wanting to wring my neck.” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself.
“You didn’t seem crazy,” I said—accidentally out loud.
He threw his head back and laughed. Instead of taking the opportunity to run, I stood transfixed. His laugh sounded like it came from the center of his being, pure and uninhibited. Actually, everything he did seemed that way. What would it be like to be this comfortable with yourself? I couldn’t remember a time in my life where I didn’t feel too quiet or too shy or too big and goofy.
“Come on,” Creed said after he stopped laughing, stepping closer to me. “I’ll even call an Uber and we can just meet for coffee, then you don’t have to fear for your life.”
Confusion must have mottled my brain because my head nodded, even as I twitched it toward the parking lot. “You can ride with me. If I go missing, someone will remember me leaving with you.”
As I walked to my car, I noticed how he strolled next to me. He automatically moved with a swagger. Why in the hell did this guy want to be my friend?
The waitress had already served our coffee when Creed said, “Go ahead, ask me whatever question is burning up your brain right now.”
I watched him dump two sugars in his coffee, then two creams. He stirred and took a sip before I finally asked, “Why are we here?”
“I told you, I wan—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I cut him off. “You want to be my friend. Is this like the cool kid needing the awkward side-kick kind of friendship? Or is it a pity thing? Because I can tell you, I have plenty on my plate. My life isn’t boring, at all. Not with an almost-three-year-old.” He opened his mouth, and I rushed on. “I know you’re not gay, so it can’t be that. Although, judging by how cocky you are, I doubt you’re hurting for dates anyway, so what is this?”
He set his coffee back down on the table, then concentrated as he opened another sugar packet and dumped it into his mug. He stirred the steaming beverage slowly while he stared into it like it would tell him how to answer me. Finally, he looked up and met my gaze. “You don’t have a lot of self-confidence, do you?”
“I wouldn’t say that, necessarily,” I muttered.
His lopsided grin irritated me, until he said, “You’re adorable. You’re like a sulky five-year-old in a what…thirty-year-old body?”
“Thirty-one.”
Creed pushed his freshly doctored coffee up into the middle of the table and leaned in. “Tell me one good thing about yourself.”
“I’m responsible,” I said easily enough.
“Something else.”
“I’m reliable.”
He squinted his eyes, a challenge shining out of the icy blue depths. “Tell me something good about how you look.”
“My tattoos are gorgeous.” They really were, too. Every line on my body had been designed by my cousin. Up until he died, he’d joked with my mom that I was no longer her greatest masterpiece, but I had become his.