Pete was a perfect gentleman. “Going to a diner” didn’t end up being code for his place—he actually pulled into a twenty-four-hour diner just off the main highway. It was called The Rancher’s Diner and was a beacon along the dark highway.
Every window in the place was lit up by the fluorescent lights and revealed the sparse sprinkling of people inside. A few people were at the counter, but every red vinyl booth was empty.
Pete got out and held up his finger as he rounded the front of his SUV. He opened Bea’s door, and she climbed out with a smile. She tried not to get too excited, but she couldn’t stop herself from liking him more and more.
The waitress said a halfhearted hello to them, refilling the coffee of the men scattered along the counter.
Pete put his hand out toward the booths. “Pick one.”
Bea went to the booth farthest away from everyone and slid into the bench on the side that sat against the wall. Pete took the bench across from her, picked up the menus hidden behind the condiments, and passed one to Bea. Just as she had admired his hands at the bar, she admired them again. She had no idea what her fascination was about, but his nails were trimmed neatly, and his fingers were long and thin, but not too thin.
She pushed the ridiculousness out of her head. They were hands, everyone had them. There wasn’t anything special about Pete’s.
“I’m starving.” He lifted the menu and took a cursory glance at it, then put it back down right away.
Now that they were in the quiet of the diner with the only noise really being the clanking of dishes and the grumbles of old men, she felt self-conscious using her voice. Especially with him. So instead of using her voice, she lifted her hands.
I assume you’re a regular?
He laughed, and at that point, she was thankful she’d decided to get cochlear implants just so she could hear that sound.
Instead of talking, he responded in sign language. No. I always get the same thing at any diner. But in all honesty, I was here late one night a few months ago.
He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask the question she was pretty sure she didn’t want the answer to.
What is this dish you always get?
I love breakfast. I get eggs, hash browns, pancakes, bacon. He chuckled as if it was funny.
That was a lot of food, but Bea had grown up with brothers who played soccer every minute of their free time, which used tons of energy and burned calories, so she was used to big eaters.
Pancakes do sound good. Bea looked over the menu, unsure if she wanted breakfast or dinner. A club sandwich sounds good too.
You get the club, and I’ll split my pancakes with you for half of your club?
Sounds perfect.
The waitress came over and took out her pad of paper with a pen, looking as though the last thing she wanted to do was serve them. Pete ordered their food for them, and the waitress left without a word.
This place isn’t known for their customer service, but I swear the food makes up for it.
Bea laughed but stopped quickly when she heard her own laughter.
Pete’s shoulders sank, and the smile that had been a permanent fixture on his face fell. “Why do you do that?”
Do what? She knew what he was talking about but decided to play dumb.
We’re signing when you could be talking. There was a look of genuine concern on Pete’s face.
Instead of answering the question outright, Bea decided to ask a question of her own. Where did you learn to sign?
He sat back in the booth, a look of defeat in his eyes. My dad was deaf.
His admission made Bea relax.
He didn’t care for the cochlear implants by the time he got them. So, rarely did he ever use them.
Did he talk? Bea asked so maybe he could relate.
When he had to, yes. To get our attention. Honestly, I don’t remember it being an issue, but now that you ask, I realize he never talked much outside of the immediate family.
Bea nodded. I got the cochlear implants, and they’re great, but I’m still self-conscious.
He reached across the table and took her hand between his. Bea thought her heart might beat out of her chest.
You don’t have to feel like that with me. I really like you, and I’d like us to get to know each other better. If you want to do that using sign language, I’m good. You can decide what you’re comfortable with.
Bea thought she might faint right there, and then he’d have to call an ambulance. Who was this guy, and how did she get so lucky for their paths to meet?
Okay, I’ll give it some thought. Thanks. She nodded.
He smiled and shook his head good-naturedly that she was still signing, but luckily, they were interrupted by the food arriving.
One bite had Bea moaning, and Pete’s head sprang up to look at her. Something heated was resting between them. She wanted him and she was almost certain he wanted her. All she wanted to do was finish her food and see where he’d take her next. She hoped it was his place.
He dropped his fork and raised his hands. Make noises like that, and we won’t finish our meal.
Bea wiped her hands on the napkin. Are you suggesting something? Finally, we’re flirting, Bea thought.
I’m suggesting that you should eat because you’ll need the energy for what I have planned after this.
Her body heated and warmth spread through her veins at the thought of going home with him. Who says I’m going home with you?
He looked her dead in the eyes. Who said anything about my place? I was going to take you paintballing.
Bea’s head rocked back, and she laughed out loud despite herself. Pete laughed with her, and the sound filled the entire restaurant. The men on the stools circled around for a moment to look, but Bea didn’t care. She was enjoying herself, and that’s all there was to it. She knew in that moment that Pete was going to be a part of her life in some capacity.
Two headlights assaulted them through the diner window as a car’s tires screeched to a halt in the parking lot. They turned in unison to watch a young woman with a long blonde ponytail get out of the car. She slammed the door and took a bat out of her truck.
“Oh fuck,” Pete said, sliding out of the booth.
Bea watched as her heart slipped inch by inch into her stomach. Pete ran outside, and his hand landed on the bat before she could hit the hood of his SUV. She started yelling, and though Bea couldn’t tell what they were saying, it was clear that Pete was trying to calm her down. All the old men in the diner had circled around to watch the show, and Bea sat in the booth feeling like an idiot, watching the two of them arguing.
Bea picked up her cell phone and ordered an Uber. She knew better than to think there was something as silly as a soulmate. Whatever she’d felt with Pete was hormones only, and clearly, he probably felt that with a lot of women and then moved on. She’d learned from a young age that men and women do shitty things to one another when they fully give themselves over to someone else. That was the entire reason she’d sworn she’d never get married.
Pete was still arguing with the woman when Bea’s Uber arrived. He at least looked back at her once, putting up a finger to say give him a minute while the woman raised her middle finger at Bea and screamed something. But Bea slid out of the booth and slipped into the Uber.
So much for Prince Charming and happily ever afters, Bea thought as she drove away.
Another chapter done. God, that felt good. I shut my laptop and put it in my bag. Since Adley’s fall, I want to be with her every minute, so although I should be writing, I’m picking her up and taking her to Sweet Suga Things.
I’m just about out of the cabin when my phone vibrates.
Hudson.
As much time as I’ve been trying to spend time with Adley, I’ve been dodging Hudson. The night of the accident, he came downstairs after she’d fallen asleep, and I tried to act normal. As if we hadn’t fought and these weird thoughts about him weren’t filling my head. As if I didn’t know that his girlfriend was waiting for him outside.
I waved from the couch, and he wavered, probably wanting to talk about our argument, until I told him that Theresa was waiting outside because she didn’t want to come in. He left my place. Eventually, Theresa drove off, and he went into his house. I sat on the couch wondering what had changed between us. Where were these feelings coming from?
Usually, I’d take him up on the offer, but I’m already outside of the cabin.
I bite my cheek. That idea is probably trouble, but he’ll find it odd if I say no.
I put my phone in my bag, lock up the cabin, and climb into my SUV.
Adley is all smiles when she sees me, and I tell her we’re going for a surprise.
By the time we park, and I place her on the sidewalk, Hudson is waiting outside Sweet Suga Things. He’s come right from the slopes, his messy helmet hair a sure giveaway.
He really is sexy. Sometimes I forget how badly I wanted him that first night we met.
“Look, Daddy!” I point in his direction, and Adley runs toward him.
His jeans are slung a little low, and his puffy jacket is open, revealing his sweatshirt that’s so faded you can barely read the ski destination he got it from. It’s his smile that captures me though, causing me to quicken my footsteps.
Adley runs right into his arms, and he picks her up, swinging her around in a circle. She screams in excitement, and he laughs. Why is that laugh having the same effect on me it did once upon a time? I’ve heard it a million times over the years without feeling this way.
“Who wants a sugar high?” he asks Adley.
She raises her hand. “Me! I do!”
He lowers her to the ground. “Then go tell Miss Greta what you want.” He opens the door, and she runs inside, her hands and nose soon glued to the cookie case.
“You just gave her the key to the vault,” I say, walking through the door he’s holding open.
“After that scare, I’ll buy her the entire bakery.”
I shake my head, and he comes in right behind me, his cologne wafting around us.
Damn him.
I turn to face him and sign, I’m going to the bathroom. I turn away, and he places his hand in mine. Electricity shoots up my arm. I tear it away, and he draws back.
He looks at me in confusion. “I was just going to ask you what you want.”
“Um…” I stare at the cases and cases of sugary goodness. I raise my hands. Cookie please.
“Okay.”
He studies me for a beat, but I quickly turn around and disappear down the hallway to the bathroom. I lock the door and rest my back against it.
Get a grip, Palmer. He’s your best friend and the father of your child. Not someone you can sleep with to get it out of your system.
I dig my phone from my purse, needing an outlet.
I shove the phone in my bag and stare at myself in the mirror.
This is the right decision even if my gut says it’s not.