Page 12 of Up All Night
This would be an ideal moment to tell Eric about my encounter with Denver, but I kept my mouth shut for reasons I didn’t entirely understand. It wasn’t that I feared Eric’s judgment. Indeed, I could use a friend’s help figuring out what it all meant in terms of who I was, who I’d always been.Oh.That was likely it. I wasn’t ready for the conversation, and as much as I could use Eric’s steady advice, I didn’t want to burden him with my rather trivial shit.
Instead, I continued to think quietly about the fling idea after Eric dropped me at my truck. I took a long moment considering Honey’s before pulling out of the parking lot. Denver was likely home sleeping like I should be as well. But hell if I could get him off my mind. Like almost everyone else, he’d assumed I was in the market for another spouse sooner rather than later. I wasn’t. And not because Maxine and our cozy companionship were irreplaceable, but because, like Eric said, it was hard. Loss of any kind sucked, and I wasn’t eager to do it again.
But a fling…
That had possibilities. I was already jonesing for a repeat with Denver. Maybe if I tried his ultra-casual approach, I’d have better luck. I took the turn onto Prospect Place slowly, driving by Denver’s place like some lovesick teen. His blinds were drawn. I didn’t want to wake him, but we did need to talk. And soon.
ChapterSix
Denver
I’d been a night owl as long as I could remember, so working nights at Honey’s Hotcake Hut wasn’t ordinarily much of a challenge. However, squeezing in enough hours of daytime sleep while trying my damnedest not to think about Sean? That was a feat on par with reaching the top of Mount Hood. And forget thinking—simply trying not to give into the temptation to jerk off thinking about our shower sex had taken major willpower, something I wasn’t exactly known for. Not surprisingly, I cut it close to the start of my Saturday-night shift at Honey’s. Tammy was already there, rolling silverware, a fresh apron in place, and reddish hair towering over her heart-shaped face.
“What are you doing beating me here?” I aimed for a joking tone to distract from my own near-tardiness. “Gonna make me look bad.”
“Eh. Not much to do at home.” Tammy shrugged, ample bosom rising under her black apron. “Nothing good on TV tonight. Saturday night’s not what it used to be.”
“I hear that. You could always try one of the streaming services.” I tended to avoid all the recurring monthly bills I possibly could, but an older woman like Tammy, living alone with three cats and working graveyards, seemed like an ideal candidate for shows on demand. Also, I didn’t like the touch of loneliness in her voice or the way her chin sagged. “You okay though? Taking care of yourself? Sleeping?”
Earlier in the winter, during a slow shift, Tammy had mentioned being proud of a particular twelve-step milestone. I wasn’t much on meetings, but we’d bonded over similar decisions to leave hard living behind us. Over the past few years, I’d reached a point where I seldom dwelled on my younger years of wild parties and rock group tours. I didn’t know Tammy’s full story, but I was fond of her and would miss her when I inevitably drifted on.
“Yes. Worrywart.” She patted my upper arm, then my chin, ruffling my short beard. “You’re sweet.”
I wasn’t, but it was nice of her to pretend. “Nah, I just don’t want to have to cover all by my lonesome.”
“What? Raking in all the tips for your handsome self?” She laughed lightly as I secured my hair and beard nets and headed to my grill station. During the day, Honey’s operated two grill stations, both ringed by countertop stools. Overnight, though, we only needed the one. We also likely wouldn’t need the mountain of silverware Tammy had rolled. “You’d love it.”
“Ha.” I shook my head because while the kitchen got a percentage of the tips, I was only too happy for Tammy to get the biggest share, as it was her hustle that earned the dollars. “It’s you they come to see, Tammy.”
“True.” Arching her neck, she gave a regal nod before moving the silverware to a bus tub and grabbing a rag for the already-shining countertop. “And here’s to hoping for a good night. Might be the last truly cold one for a while, but we’ll have to see if the cold keeps the young folks from Saturday-night fun.”
“As long as they treat you right.” Our regulars—truckers, first responders, shift workers—were usually decent folks and good about tipping. However, the rowdy, semi-drunken weekend party crowd could be a mixed bag of big checks and bigger headaches.
“See? You’re a sweet one. I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re a good one.”
“What?” I whirled around from the grill I’d been prepping. I wasn’t aware that I had a reputation in town—good, bad, or otherwise. I generally flew under the radar and preferred it that way. “What does?—”
“Howdy, gals.” Tammy waved as two women in nursing scrubs came through the front doors. “Pick a booth.”
The next few hours were steady. Not crazy busy, but enough to keep us moving. At least Tammy was happy with all the fresh faces to chat with, her earlier somber mood giving way to her trademark cheer.
“Ah. Here comes the eye candy,” she crowed as the door opened on a gust of cold air to admit a crew of firefighters in uniform. I spied their engine in the parking lot as I took stock of the crew. Not that I was looking for Sean. First, the dude had finished a shift earlier that day and was unlikely to be on again so soon. Second, and more importantly, I wasnoteager to see those twinkling blue eyes again. I had zero clue what I’d say, a feeling I didn’t much care for. I should have been relieved, but I couldn’t stop the slump of my shoulders as the Sean-less crew filed in to take seats around the counter.
“How goes it for my favorite crew?” Tammy asked as she handed out menus.
“You say that to all the boys, Tammy.” Luther, an older firefighter with a bit of a belly and fading hairline loved to flirt back with Tammy. He was a predictable chili omelet, extra hash browns customer who was usually good for a laugh or two. However, his coworker, a younger woman seated next to him, gave him a withering look.
“Ahem.”
“Sorry, Suzy.” Luther offered an appropriately apologetic smile. “All the crews? Crew members? All of us?”
“I can’t wait for Rodriguez to make it back so I’m not the only mom on the crew trying to keep you doofuses in line.” Suzy gave a long-suffering sigh as I pulled out the egg substitute for the veggie lover’s special she never deviated from.
“Aw, Suz. You know we love you,” the firefighter on Suzy’s other side piped up. He was a skinny dude who always ordered the lumberjack breakfast, extra crispy bacon, jam not syrup for the pancakes. “And Murphy—Sean, not the chief—is fitting in great. Doesn’t quite have Rodriguez’s takeout ordering skills down yet, but he’s a good dude.”
“He is. But don’t count on him sticking around.” Suzy gave an arch look, tossing her brown ponytail over one shoulder.
“How do you figure?” Luther frowned. Trying not to follow suit, I busied myself with the orders.