Page 4 of Pillow Talk

“Good to know.” He turns his full attention on me. I thought he was gorgeous across this poorly lit dinner, but holy hell! Up close, having his gaze directed at me is intense, igniting my skin with just a look. I’m standing close enough that for the first time, I can see he has tiny flecks of green in his brown eyes.

“So, what would you have? Miss-” He scans my chest area for a name tag, and since I’m not wearing one, I decide to cut his quest short. “Eyes up here sweetheart,” I tease.

“I’ll just have your usual,” he replies, a ghost of a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. I nearly burst into flames on the spot, when his eyes flicker to my chest, once more, then back to my face. “You, uh… There’s som-“

“The name is Alexa, and you’re not the first pretty face to use the old name tag trick.” I smile as I collect his menu and swipe his empty mug, making my escape, not bothering to hear his reply.

The smell of the coffee lets me know it’s about done brewing. “Vince, my usual.” I put in the order; grabbing another cup, I pour one for myself. Coffee is my weakness, and the smell is mouth-watering.

Setting my cup aside to cool, I return to the booth to deliver his coffee. Per my personal protocol, I lift his cup and pour the streaming liquid away from the table. Spilling the steaming beverage on his manhood would be a travesty, and a risk I’m not willing to take. Say what?

My lack of sleep is obviously messing with my brain, and in my flustered state, I set his cup down with a little more force than I intend to, causing some of the contents to slush out and onto the table. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry! Oh, I uhhh. Pardon my French.” My skin turns fifty shades of red as I mentally scold myself for letting my mouth on the loose again.

“Oui!” He snickers. Did he actually just make a joke? I find myself smiling until his eyes wander back down to my chest. Ugh. Really?

So I give my best disapproving glare, and attempt to cross my arms over my chest while holding a pot of steaming coffee, pretending to be bothered, while secretly being flattered and imagining him slowly unbuttoning these uniform buttons. One. By. One.

Sputtering, he chokes on his coffee. Is he laughing? I'm equal parts confused and annoyed at his reaction.

“Alexa, it’s just that…Well, I think you have something on you,” he offers modestly, pointing to my uniform.

Looking down, mortified to find that I do, in fact, have a large red ketchup stain on my left breast like I’ve been nursing a baby vampire. Just great! Kill me now!

“Oh, um. Thanks. I'll just be right back.” I turn on my heel and head back to the bathroom before he can see my skin turn a coordinating shade of red.

Washing my hands, I glance down, taking in my black and white gingham uniform splattered with ketchup on my freaking boob. Well at least it matches my red Keds. So there’s that. I try to cheer myself up while scrubbing the worn cotton vigorously to erase the stain. In all reality, I’m just making it worse. A quick inspection of my face in the mirror reminds me a little stain is the least of my problems. My wild mane of blond hair is piled haphazardly on top of my head, my attempt at a messy bun less than successful. Tired blue eyes that have dark smudges beneath from lack of sleep stare back at me in the vintage mirror. At lease, my skin is clear, the one favor my Dad did me, sharing his genes and warm golden skin. Enough. I scold myself. I have a job to do. And he is out there waiting.

How mortifying. I all but accused him of checking me out. Right? Like Mr. Suit would ever go for me, Little Miss Waitress. This is no modern-day Cinderella story. And, it would take more than a kick ass pair of shoes for a man like that to chase after me. My mind drifts, imagining the possibility. Too bad because I suck at running, and being caught by him could be all kinds of fun.

Back to reality. Allowing myself one more critical glance in the mirror, I dry my hands before I hear Vince yell, "Order up."

Guess it's the best I can do… It’s not like it matters. I’ll never see him again. He will just be some hot suit that stopped by Dottie’s on a slow night and hopefully leaves me an amazing tip. Lord knows I could use it, but so far, I have embarrassed him, spilled his coffee and made a fool of myself. So hopefully he tips me at all.

I'm not sure how long I’ve been in the bathroom, but I'm guessing longer than I thought because he's nearly finished his coffee.

Balancing the plates, I place his food in front of him, watching as his eyes grow wide. "Breakfast is served! The cable car pancakes big breakfast with a side of biscuits and gravy; the best in town of course!" I offer my best smile, the one that pushes my cheeks up and squints my eyes.

"Like the pie?" he questions, and my smile falters. I can’t really tell when he’s joking or being serious. He so stoic, and I haven’t given up on my quest to lighten his mood. What else could I possibly do to humiliate myself that I haven’t already?

I slowly shake my head causing some stray wisps of hair to tickle my neck. "Shhhhh." Placing my finger to my lips, I whisper, "Not like the pie; the B&G really are the best."

He nods as if accepting my answer for truth then turns back to his food.

"This is your usual?" He asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he picks up his fork. He seems like a man who doesn't show a great deal of emotion, so his amusement is a small victory.

"What? I told you I like breakfast food," I shrug.

"Yeah, but you didn't say that your usual was a breakfast buffet," he counters, catching on to this whole banter thing.

"You really shouldn't judge a woman's appetite," I inform him, while grabbing his mug to refill it. "It's pretty rude actually."

His fork makes a clanking noise, and he nearly drops it in his plate of pancakes.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you." He seems flustered. Funny…I never pictured a guy like him being the type.

"Don't worry; you didn't," I tell him, reaching out to touch his arm in a gentle pat but regretting it the moment I make contact.

Instant heat floods my senses and I quickly pull my hand back, startled by the zing of electricity I felt from simply touching him.