Page 14 of One Night in Paris
“Oh, uh, iced tea, please. And I’ll have a cheeseburger with bacon, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Fries on the side.”
Without writing any of that down, I replied, “Right. Unlike our usual habit of putting the fries directly on the burger. Got it. I’ll be back.”
My heart continued to thunder against my rib cage as I went to put his order in and then go see what the family of five at table nine wanted. If I had to guess, the little girl had run out of ketchup again. I swore the kid was eating it with a spoon.
Walking back through the diner to the other table, I forbade myself from even looking at Logan. Why would I need to look at him? He was likely sitting over there reading the newspaper article about himself, congratulating himself on being rich and unbelievably sexy.
“What do y’all need?” Forcing a smile to my face, I stood by the dad’s chair which seemed to be optimal for avoiding flinging ketchup from wayward French fries.
“Oh, Libby needs more ketchup again. I’m so sorry. She emptied this bottle, too.” The mom, who was holding a squirming toddler, explained while the dad continued to shovel chicken fingers into his face as if I wasn’t even there. But then, if he didn’t notice his own family, why would he see a waitress?
“No problem. I’ll get a new bottle, and some more milk.” Her daughter’s cup was almost empty.
The mother thanked me as I headed off to do just that and drop Logan’s tea off without even looking at him. On my way, Inoticed that another table needed refills, and then I had to take a table their check. By the time I finished checking on all of my other tables, Logan’s food was up.
With a deep breath, I scooped it off the window and steadied myself to go back over.
“Is that for table fifteen?” Molly, one of my friends at the diner, stopped next to me, chomping on a piece of gum like she always was. The girl was gorgeous, but not classy. Her blonde hair showed dark roots, and her makeup looked more like something out of a Madonna video from the eighties than something a girl our age should be wearing now, with pink pastel lip gloss and blue eye shadow. Still, she was a sweetheart, and one of the only reasons I dragged myself in here every day, other than to pay the bills, was to visit with her—something I hadn’t had a chance to do today yet.
“Yep. It sure is,” I replied, trying not to stare in Logan’s direction as Molly was doing.
“Damn. Wish he would’ve sat at my table.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment.
“You know—” I’d just begun to ask her if she wanted the table when Dotty shouted her name.
Jumping, Molly shifted to look at the old bag over my shoulder.
“Get your ass over to twenty. Now!”
“Gotta go.” Molly didn’t handle the constant shouting as well as I did. When she spoke, her voice cracked slightly, like she was about to cry.
If my hands hadn’t been full, I would’ve patted her on the shoulder. Instead, I headed to Logan’s table, breathing deeply and reminding myself that I could handle this. As I’d stated earlier, I was a tough broad—I was a New Yorker.
“All right, here we are.” I set his order down in front of him, purposely setting the plate right on top of the picture of him inthe newspaper. “Everything look okay?” I stared at the plate in front of me instead of the man.
“Everything looks amazing. Just as I remember it.”
My eyes flickered up to meet his. Was he actually flirting with me?
This had to be some kind of a sick joke. After all, I’d lied to him about everything but my name while we were in Paris. While it had certainly been fun having sex with him in France, I wasn’t about to add the complication of a fuck-buddy into my life at the moment. I already had too many things trying to screw me over.
“Let me know if you need anything.” Pulling my eyes away from his intense stare, I began to go to my next table.
His fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging me back slightly. “Harper, go out with me.”
With his fingers on my wrist, could he feel my pulse as my heart skipped a beat? It wasn’t the words. I’d been asked to go out with customers a million times since I started working here. No, it was his tone. That husky, sexy murmur he’d used in the bedroom. Flashes of his muscular body hovering above me, the look on his face when he raised his head from my sopping wet pussy, made that ache within me start to flare again.
“I can’t.” The words came out quickly, with no conscious thought. But they were right. “Sorry.”
His mouth tipped down at the corners, disappointment dulling the shine in his eyes. Logan released me, and I continued on my way.
After tending to a few other tables, I intended to go back and check on him, but the next time I turned around, he was gone, most of his meal untouched on the plate.
At first, I thought maybe he’d gone to the restroom. But then I noticed cash lying on the table next to the mostly uneaten cheeseburger.
Steeling myself, I went over to the table and reached for the money. The bill was going to come to about fifteen bucks, but he’d left a hundred-dollar bill. No, two hundred-dollar bills! My mouth dropped open. What the actual hell?
Next to the money was a note. Picking it up, I read it over quickly. “Harper, in case you change your mind, here’s my number. I don’t really care about the lies we told in Paris. I want to get to know the real you.” He signed his name and told me to keep the change.