Page 12 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

“So?” she asked.

“So … It is the good Samaritan. And he’s awfully cocky.”

Sylvia quirked an eyebrow at her. “Honey, when a man looks like that and goes around rescuing strangers in dark parking lots, he’s allowed to be as cocky as he wants.”

“You’re shameless,” Clarissa said.

“I pushed three kids outta my vagina, and I haven’t peed alone in almost seven years. I ain’t got any shame left,” Sylvia said.

“I see your point. But what would your husband say if he heard you talk like that?”

“He’d say look but don’t touch. Same thing I tell him when him and his buddies go out to Spangles.”

Clarissa laughed as Sylvia took more plates of food out. She grabbed a mug and the pot of coffee, then reluctantly headed back to his table. Stubbornly refusing eye contact, she set the mug down to fill it. His hand shot out, covering the opening.

“You wouldn’t happen to have decaf, would you?” he asked.

“Yeah, we do, but usually only the old ladies’ book club drink it.”

“It’s a health condition, I hope you understand.”

Flushing, she nodded and scurried back to the counter for the decaf. Why had she felt the need to make a snip about his coffee habits?

Returning to his table with the orange-capped pot, she filled his mug. The smug bastard didn’t stop beaming at her the whole time.

“Do you need anything else while you wait?” she asked.

“No, thank you.”

Nodding, she left to tend her other customers, trying to ignore the way his smile made her feel. Underneath the anxiety was an oddly warm sensation.

Nope, she wasn’t going to think about it. She resolved to just do her job so she could go home to Rachel.

“Order up!” Adam’s voice called out from the kitchen window. Clarissa sighed. It was the veggie omelet and hash browns.

Well, the guy had saved her from being attacked, the least she could do was take him the food he ordered. If he got creepy after that, then she would sic Adam on him. Even though she knew she would never actually do that, it felt nice to know she had that option. Pulling the smile off her face, she took the good Samaritan his food.

“Here you go, need anything else while I’m here?” Without making eye contact, she checked his mug. Still full.

“It looks delicious. Do you happen to have any hot sauce in this establishment?”

“Yup, be right back.”

In a jiff, she placed it on the table, still not looking at him. She thought she heard him chuckle and her face flushed. Yup, men were infuriating, even the good Samaritan types.

Over the next twenty minutes, the diner cleared out. Taking advantage of the lull, Clarissa and Sylvia took turns giving each other breaks. Clarissa used hers to wash her hands and face and apply her oil and perfume.

Pinching her cheeks, she tried to wake herself up before going back out. It was always harder to stay awake when the place wasn’t as busy. On autopilot, she refilled cups and handed out to-go boxes for the few trickles of customers wading in and out. Stubbornly, she’d saved the pot of decaf for last.

“May I have a word?” The good Samaritan’s voice startled her from her daze. “Now that the place isn’t as busy, I was hoping to have a moment.”

She stared at him. He had an angle; she just didn’t know what it was yet.

“Are you able to sit? Or will that get you into trouble with your boss?” he asked.

“No, I can sit. If anything, Donna’s too lax on the rules.” She perched on the edge of the booth.

At this level, she was forced to look directly into his face. God it was a nice face. An ivory complexion with a scattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, full lips, and a strong jaw underneath his beard. She could tell he spent time outdoors, and wasn’t a stranger to hard work, but he had an air of someone who took care of themselves.