the other job a few nights a week,” she said hastily. “Usually the timing works out, but there was just an accident on the interstate this morning and . . .”
He held up a palm, silencing her. “I’m not worried about muffins not being ready, Kelsey. But I am wondering when you find time to sleep and take care of yourself. And frankly, I’m a little concerned that you’re driving a car and working in a kitchen with no rest. That’s dangerous.”
Her gaze darted downward, a pink tinge washing over her cheeks. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to crazy schedules and don’t really need a lot of sleep.”
“And both jobs are necessary?”
She looked back at him, and he could see her lingering embarrassment over the conversation. He should be polite and let her off the hook. Her personal business was her own. But the thought of this vibrant girl working herself to the bone to get by wasn’t sitting well with him.
“I’m saving up for culinary school. This job pays for the basics. The other goes into my school savings.”
“I see.”
“Excuse me,” a nasally voice called from a few tables over. Snapping fingers accompanied the annoying interruption. They both turned. A pinched-mouthed woman had her bony hand in the air, trying to get Kelsey’s attention and beckoning her like she was an errant puppy. “I’m out of coffee.”
Wyatt sent the woman a quelling look, and she quickly looked down at her cream-cheesed bagel with a
well-I-never
huff. He brought his attention back to Kelsey. “Go ahead and take care of your tables. God forbid anyone has to wait a second for something. And let me know when the muffins come out.”
“Yes, sir,” Kelsey said, clearly relieved to be released from the conversation.
And though he was always at his desk by seven sharp, he lingered over his omelet today, taking the time to enjoy the hum of conversation around him and the sight of his favorite waitress doing her job.
Kelsey checked on him once and brought fresh coffee, but in between that, she was a nonstop machine of smiles, banter, and serving prowess. Even when she got something wrong, Wyatt watched in fascination as she won the person over to her side. Hell, she had one older man smiling and apologizing to
her
when she served him oatmeal instead of cheese grits. He’d patted Kelsey’s arm and joked that his wife must’ve put her up to it since he was supposed to be cutting back on calories anyway.
It was like watching a master-level demonstration in social sparkle. If he had to make all that small talk and feign interest in all these people’s woes and requests, he’d lose his fucking mind. But Kelsey seemed to thrive on it, like she fed off the energy in the diner. She was magnetic to watch.
By the time she made her way back to him with the fresh-out-of-the-oven muffin, his reports and laptop had gone untouched. She set down the plate and laid a fresh napkin next to it. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint after all this time.”
“Oh, I have no doubt it will have been worth the wait,” he said, watching her instead of looking at the muffin.
“Anything else I can get you?”
A hotel room and an hour of your time.
Maybe two hours. Or a weekend.
But he shook off the tempting thought. Yes, he came here every day to enjoy the presence of his pretty waitress. But he’d always done it with the knowledge of look but don’t touch. Like enjoying a fine piece of art. Meant to be observed, appreciated, even turned on by, but not meant for consumption. Beyond the fact that she was probably at least a decade younger than his thirty-seven years, Wyatt had learned to steer clear of the ones who nudged that old, buried desire that lay sleeping in the recesses of his past. And Kelsey didn’t just nudge it, she fucking assailed it.
“No, this will be all. Thank you.”
“Enjoy.” She gave him a bright smile and sauntered off, the walk just as impressive from the reverse angle. He liked that she moved around
He held up a palm, silencing her. “I’m not worried about muffins not being ready, Kelsey. But I am wondering when you find time to sleep and take care of yourself. And frankly, I’m a little concerned that you’re driving a car and working in a kitchen with no rest. That’s dangerous.”
Her gaze darted downward, a pink tinge washing over her cheeks. “It’s fine, really. I’m used to crazy schedules and don’t really need a lot of sleep.”
“And both jobs are necessary?”
She looked back at him, and he could see her lingering embarrassment over the conversation. He should be polite and let her off the hook. Her personal business was her own. But the thought of this vibrant girl working herself to the bone to get by wasn’t sitting well with him.
“I’m saving up for culinary school. This job pays for the basics. The other goes into my school savings.”
“I see.”
“Excuse me,” a nasally voice called from a few tables over. Snapping fingers accompanied the annoying interruption. They both turned. A pinched-mouthed woman had her bony hand in the air, trying to get Kelsey’s attention and beckoning her like she was an errant puppy. “I’m out of coffee.”
Wyatt sent the woman a quelling look, and she quickly looked down at her cream-cheesed bagel with a
well-I-never
huff. He brought his attention back to Kelsey. “Go ahead and take care of your tables. God forbid anyone has to wait a second for something. And let me know when the muffins come out.”
“Yes, sir,” Kelsey said, clearly relieved to be released from the conversation.
And though he was always at his desk by seven sharp, he lingered over his omelet today, taking the time to enjoy the hum of conversation around him and the sight of his favorite waitress doing her job.
Kelsey checked on him once and brought fresh coffee, but in between that, she was a nonstop machine of smiles, banter, and serving prowess. Even when she got something wrong, Wyatt watched in fascination as she won the person over to her side. Hell, she had one older man smiling and apologizing to
her
when she served him oatmeal instead of cheese grits. He’d patted Kelsey’s arm and joked that his wife must’ve put her up to it since he was supposed to be cutting back on calories anyway.
It was like watching a master-level demonstration in social sparkle. If he had to make all that small talk and feign interest in all these people’s woes and requests, he’d lose his fucking mind. But Kelsey seemed to thrive on it, like she fed off the energy in the diner. She was magnetic to watch.
By the time she made her way back to him with the fresh-out-of-the-oven muffin, his reports and laptop had gone untouched. She set down the plate and laid a fresh napkin next to it. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint after all this time.”
“Oh, I have no doubt it will have been worth the wait,” he said, watching her instead of looking at the muffin.
“Anything else I can get you?”
A hotel room and an hour of your time.
Maybe two hours. Or a weekend.
But he shook off the tempting thought. Yes, he came here every day to enjoy the presence of his pretty waitress. But he’d always done it with the knowledge of look but don’t touch. Like enjoying a fine piece of art. Meant to be observed, appreciated, even turned on by, but not meant for consumption. Beyond the fact that she was probably at least a decade younger than his thirty-seven years, Wyatt had learned to steer clear of the ones who nudged that old, buried desire that lay sleeping in the recesses of his past. And Kelsey didn’t just nudge it, she fucking assailed it.
“No, this will be all. Thank you.”
“Enjoy.” She gave him a bright smile and sauntered off, the walk just as impressive from the reverse angle. He liked that she moved around
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