Page 12 of Playing With The Mountain Man

I used to have a man who looked at me like that. It felt like a million years ago now, but I’d never forget nights lying in the back of his beat-up old truck, the music low, staring at the stars, wishing for a future. A future I’d had for a while before life sent me a giant fuck you and took it all from me.

An hour later, the morning rush had eased, and we’d managed to get the diner back under some kind of control.

“What was that?” I asked Emmy as I slid her a cup of coffee.

“Saturday morning?” she replied wearily.

“You know I appreciate you covering today,” I started.

“I know. And you know I don’t mind.”

“I know you don’t. But this isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”

“It’s a good problem to have,” she reminded me.

Sometimes I forgot that I only opened the diner a couple of months back. It was still a novelty to the people of Wattle Creek, one I hoped didn’t wear off too soon.

Emmy stood beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me tightly. I didn’t know where she’d come from, but I wasn’t giving her up. From the moment I’d arrived in Wattle Creek, she adopted me, and I couldn’t have been luckier. She was the best friend a girl could have, and I was so glad she was mine.

“We’ll figure it out. You’re doing great,” she attempted to assure me.

“River …”

“Will be fine for a week with his grandparents. You said they were good people, and River was excited to see them. Besides, when’s the last time you had a day just for you?” she asked, and I didn’t have an answer.

From the moment I became a single mother, my time no longer belonged to me.

Feeling myself getting overwhelmed, I excused myself to check on something in the kitchen.

I spent ten minutes fussing. I wiped benches, refilled sauce bottles, and checked the fridge. Ryan, being the smart man he was, kept his mouth shut and focused on getting the orders out the door.

“Tillie?” I heard Emmy’s voice call, and I knew I couldn’t hide in here forever. It wasn’t fair.

“Coming,” I replied, slipping into the tiny bathroom and splashing some water on my face.

Deep down, I knew Emmy was right. River would be fine with his grandparents. They’d dote on him and spoil him rotten, and after the last couple of years, he deserved a little spoiling.

I dried my hands, squared my shoulders, and headed out into the diner. For a few minutes, I got caught up chatting with customers and refilling coffee.

The bells jingled over the door, and I looked up, only for me to stop breathing.

He was back.

And he looked better than ever.

“Rosie? Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the old lady, whose order I was supposed to be taking, asked.

“I-I-I,” I didn’t have words. I shook my head and swallowed the lump in my throat. It was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.

“I’m sorry, I missed that. What can I get you?” I forced myself to pay attention.

She patted my hand gently. Her wrinkled skin was so soft against my scraped and burned hand. “Honey, if a man looked at me like that, I’d forget my own name, too,” she told me, her voice sounding like someone who’d been there.

“What? No! He doesn’t …. We don’t even know each other,” I corrected.

“Well, what are you standing around talking to me for? Go get to know him.” She nudged.

I froze for a moment before common sense kicked me in the ass. “It’s not like that. He’s just a customer.”