Page 23 of Matchmaking On The Menu

“I’ll see you at the festival, then?” She doesn’t wait for my answer.

I watch her drive off, then look down the empty road. That was something.

Maybe the festival isn’t a bad idea.

5

DANNICA

LOCAL WOMAN DENIES INTEREST IN STRANGER, MONITORS DOOR ANYWAY

If I look at that door one more time when the bell chimes, I’m going to lose it. Last I checked, my job is to serve coffee, not monitor the entrance like I’m on some kind of emotional lookout duty. I don’t even know what I’m expecting. Or why I’m expecting anything. It’s not like I have room in my life to be distracted by some out-of-towner who may or may not exist outside of one great burger and a conversation I definitely overanalyzed. I haven’t even figured my own shit out yet. Mom and Grandma’s offer is constantly looping around in my mind.

If I say yes, that’s it. This diner, these walls, this town… It becomes my life. And if I say no… I press my lips together, shaking the thought off before it can take root again. Either way, getting hung up on a stranger is not exactly clever if I don’t even know whether I’ll be here in a month.

The bell jingles again. Luke Saddler wanders in, looking like the mere concept of hunger has offended him. I tell myself I’m not disappointed. Why would I be? Just because I had one of the most engaging conversations in months doesn’t mean I wish I could see Mystery Man again. I look back down at the coffee pot as if I didn’t just react like one of Pavlov’s dogs. I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.

Ugh, why can’t I stop thinking of the cheeseburger stranger? If I admit it out loud, the girls will never let me live it down, and I refuse to become the diner’s newest episode of “Dannica Has Feelings for a Stranger.”

He isn’t special.

He’s just some guy who breezed through town two weeks ago and apparently hasn’t felt the urge to come back for another burger. I know he’s still in town. The only two topics of conversation in Boudica Springs are the festival and the gorgeous stranger. Not my words, the town’s, but who am I to go against popular opinion.

My mind always drifts back to the same question every time Mystery Man comes to mind. Why hasn’t he come back to the diner? Our food is excellent.

Frustrated with myself for acting like I was expecting a marriage proposal from a guy I spoke to once, I snort into the coffee pot. “Dannica, you need to get a grip.”

Quadri glances up from the pass, one eyebrow lifting just enough to say you okay over there? but she doesn’t comment. Actually, no one has. Which means one of two things. Either they haven’t noticed my new habit of snapping my head toward the door every time the bell rings, or they’re stockpiling ammunition.

Frankly, I think it’s the latter. That lot smell gossip the way sharks smell blood. And they’re a hell of a lot faster to circle. If they even suspected I was waiting for Mystery Man to walk back through that door, I’d never hear the end of it.

The bell over the door jingles again, and I look before I can stop myself. Gosh fucking darn it.

It’s not him. I focus my attention back on Luke. Grease streaks one forearm, his backwards cap sits crooked on his head, and there’s a dark smear along the knee of his jeans that I sincerely hope is motor oil.

“Before you ask,” he says, dropping onto a stool at the counter, “the answer is yes. The truck exploded emotionally.”

Mr. Davenport lowers his coffee. “Emotionally?”

Luke points at him. “Exactly the reaction I had.”

I walk over with the coffee pot. “Please tell me you’re not diagnosing vehicles with feelings again.”

“If people can have check engine lights, why can’t trucks have emotional breakdowns?”

“That’s not how mechanics work.”

“That’s because you fear innovation.”

I snort despite myself. Luke side-eyes the pot. “Are you trying to give me regular coffee? Looks like you could use a refill yourself.”

“Shoot, sorry. But seriously, how many caramel lattes can you drink in one day?”

“You should have it on tap. Better yet, bottomless.”

“I’ll tell Grandma.” The thought sticks in my throat because soon I might be the one making that decision. I clear the lump from my throat. “You having lunch?”

“Yeah, I better. Mary said if I didn’t eat before she came over this afternoon, she’d bring a horse bag full of diner scraps.” He shivers. “Y’all have amazing food but no thanks.”