Page 14 of The Irresistible Distraction

“I’m doing a shit job at distracting you. Never paying off the life debt at this rate.”

“Not at all. It’s always easier to hear about someone else’s problems.”

“I’m sure Diner Rita has learned to be a very good listener, but I doubt Vacation Raquel called so you could listen to my problems.”

This man. I’m laughing even as I protest. “You called me.”

“After you texted me.”

In the brief pause after he says this, I hear a DJ in the background. “Sounds like a real party.”

“It’s . . . I’m not allowed to say boring, but⁠—”

“Wait.” I snuggle into the blankets, tired but not wanting to hang up. “Why can’t you admit it’s boring?”

“I had a tutor who told me—in the middle of an epically boring lesson on epistemology I was yawning my way through—that if a lesson, a party, anything ever seemed boring, it meant I was boring.”

“Sounds like a very manipulative teacher.”

“Machiavellian. But her point was that if I worked at it, if I committed to living an interesting life, I had the power, the agency, to make anything fun.”

My laugh is tired. “So that’s the dream? No legacy, just anonymous fun?”

“That’s why I’m Clark and you’re Vacation Raquel, right?”

My eyelids feel heavy, the warmth of his voice lulling me into a rest I hadn’t thought I was ready for. Even though part of me wants to keep talking, I hear myself say, “I should let you go.”

The briefest of pauses. “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“On July Fourth?” It’s a particularly busy shift and a very uncertain workload. Walter won’t be there, Maggie will be thirty-seven weeks and one day pregnant, and I’ll be baking cookies between customers and hopefully selling extra portions of popcorn and snacks I’ve prepackaged—I’ll be completely exhausted before the shift ends.

As if reading my mind, Clark offers, “I can help.”

The image of Sexy Tourist taking orders . . . “You want to come work at my diner during your Lake Arrowhead vacation?”

“Of course not. I’d much rather kiss you until you forget your own name, maybe discover if the rest of you also tastes like vanilla and addictive goodness. But you told me I had inappropriate boundaries, meaning I’ll settle for a date.”

“I hardly know you.”

“You trust me enough to kiss me but not hire me?”

This doesn’t seem like the time to admit my employees are friends I’ve known my entire life. I grew up with Maggie and have known Reuben and Mario for a decade. I only hired Walter after he’d been using the extra parking lot as an unofficial skatepark. And while I’ve taken on a variety of high schoolers who wanted extra work, Sexy Tourist is little more than a well-dressed stranger.

Still.

July Fourth on a weekend is always a crapshoot.

My tone is tentative. “I pay minimum wage.”

“No need. A date and maybe a couple cookies would be more than adequate recompense.”

My eyes close on a half smile, half yawn. “A moment ago, it was just a date.”

“That offer expired. Isn’t negotiating fun?” His tone takes on a pleading quality, laced with clear amusement. “After I help you get through what’s probably a very busy holiday at the diner, when I’ve proven how useful I can be and you’re feeling particularly grateful, Clark and Raquel can ride off into the sunset.” At my continued silence, he presses. “I’ll let Maggie Marilyn take a picture of my driver’s license, and if you’re really worried, she can google me to make sure I’m a single man with no record. You can too, if you’d like to do formal introductions now.”

“No, I—” I lick my lips. “I like the sound of Vacation Raquel.”

I can’t tell if he’s put a lot of thought into this or if he’s just one of those people who considers all possible objections.