Page 113 of A Stop in Time
Antonio, the cook, calls out from behind the partial divider, “Angela!” His thick Hispanic accent emphasizes the pronunciation of her name with the h sound taking the place of the g. “When are we going on a date?”
She refills a few customers’ coffees without missing a beat and pipes back with, “When you don’t take so long making torrejas!”
I slide into a booth seat and swear the stress practically pours off me. God, I fucking missed this place.
Angela slides a glass of water in front of me with a wink before bustling off to take care of her other tables. I’m not the least bit surprised to see the Mustang Shelby pull into the parking lot a moment later.
I drain half of my water glass before leaning back against the booth, watching him enter the diner. He doesn’t hesitate, striding toward me and sliding onto the seat across from me.
Bronson’s dark eyes survey me. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in years instead of over a month.”
“Miss me, huh?”
He smirks. “Like hell.” His expression sobers, and concern edges in. “Didn’t expect you back today.”
I study the condensation on the water glass. “Didn’t plan to be. Just felt like I needed…” I lift my eyes and glance around the diner. “This.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment. “Not gettin’ any answers, huh?”
I grit my teeth at the frustration threatening to tank my mood. “No. It’s like a motherfuckin’ LSD trip. When I think I might be onto somethin’, I get sent down another rabbit hole leading to a dead end.”
“Hey, handsome.” Angela slides a glass of water in front of Bronson.
Bronson’s eyes light up. “Hey, beautiful. That a new lipstick color?”
She beams. “It is. Georgia helped me pick it out the other day.”
“That why Antonio’s hittin’ on you?” As soon as I say it, I regret it because Bronson’s face turns to stone.
His eyes fly to Angela’s. “That so?” His menacing tone would have most people shaking in their shoes.
Angela waves him off. “Oh, stop it. I’ve been fending off men longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t remind him to be respectful.”
Angela rolls her eyes. “Dios save me from overprotective men.” With a smile directed at me, she says, “Your food is almost ready.” Then she’s off again, chatting with customers and refilling drinks.
Bronson shakes his head before settling his attention on me. “Wanna fill me in on shit?”
I grunt a half laugh, half sigh, and scrub a hand down my face. “Fuck…where to even start.”
Leaning back, he rests an arm along the back of the booth. He appears like he doesn’t have any worries of business pressing in on him, especially with me being gone. I know he does, though. But right now, his attention’s on me. “Start from the beginnin’.”
I fill him in on the details I haven’t relayed to him over the phone and include the most recent information I stumbled onto from Human Resources.
I sidestep how I came upon that to avoid mentioning Mac’s ability. It’s not that I think he’d freak out—especially not with his wife having a unique ability.
I’m holding back on offering that up, because I’m still fucking trying to wrap my mind around it. That, and the fact that I’m the first person who’s resistant to it if she touches me.
Once I end with what happened with Mac and her sleepwalking and memory issues, his brows descend, eyes turning sharp.
“No chance she’s fakin’ any of it?”
“No way in hell.” The certainty in my tone has him jerking his chin in a nod of understanding. We both have exceptional radar when it comes to detecting lies people try to spout off. We’re never wrong.
“But somethin’s still off.” He phrases it as a statement, picking up on exactly what I’ve been dancing around on the drive up here.
“Yeah.” I sigh and lean back to allow Angela to slide my plate of food in front of me. She gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before rushing off to offer us privacy.