Page 14 of Truck Stop Tempest
When I loosened my grip on the counter, dropped my heels to the ground, and turned around, Slade stood behind me, arms folded, her electric smile lighting the room.
“Whatcha looking at?” she asked, fully aware of who I’d been spying on.
“Oh. Um. Sorry. I was just taking a quick break.” I tried to scoot around her, but she stepped to the left, blocking my direct path to the door.
My face heated a thousand degrees, and I resisted the urge to flee.
“I have a feeling those jerks won’t be back. As in…ever.”
She’d seen the whole thing.
Charlie laughed. “Tito probably scared them straight out of town.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
With a smirk and a head shake, she responded, “Oh, nothing. It’s just that those Triple T boys get a little overzealous when it comes to the ladies in their life.”
“Triple T boys?” I asked.
She lifted her hand and raised three fingers one at a time while ticking off the names, “Tango, Tito, Tucker.”
Charlie laughed. “Corny.”
Slade shrugged. “I know. Corny. But cute. And accurate.” She challenged me to argue with a raised eyebrow.
I wasted no time reminding her, “I’m not his lady.”
“You’re not?” She smirked.
“No. I hardly know him.”
Slade stared down at me wearing a crooked smile like she knew a secret and wanted to share, or like she was waiting for the lightbulb over my head to blink because I’d just realized the solution to a major life crisis.
I huffed, done with the conversation, and, more accurately, not willing to admit I was giddy over the fact that Tito had possibly defended my honor.
Maybe he liked me.
Or maybe that’s how he was built.
He would’ve done the same for Slade or Margie.
I made my way back to the dining room. Back to work. Waitress mode: on. Pathetic girl with a crush mode: off.
The drunk bunch had left three stacks of money on the table.
I felt the weight of Tito’s stare as I shoved the folded bills into my apron. The tip had to be close to a hundred dollars. For a table I hadn’t even served. I wondered what he’d said to scare them off. Shameful, really, how much the gesture thrilled me.
I avoided Tito for as long as I could, ten minutes at least.
When I approached to clear his table, he turned his head to stare out the window. Only, when I followed his gaze, he wasn’t staring out the window at all. He was looking at me through the reflection in the glass. Our eyes met, he looked away, and I pretended the exchange hadn’t happened.
I didn’t ask if he was done eating. I didn’t ask if he wanted a drink refill. I didn’t ask if he wanted the bill. I mumbled, “Thank you,” trusting he knew what the gratitude was for, and carried his dishes to the kitchen.
When I returned, he was gone.
When my shift ended, he was outside, waiting for me.
I waited outside for Tuuli. Grateful for the cool air and dark sky. Gave me room to think and time to clear the shit in my head. I’d tried to go home. I had. Only, I couldn’t, in good conscience, sit in my safe apartment, while Tuuli rode the bus, surrounded by God knows what kind of riffraff.