At two in the morning, Mandi threw back the covers. She’d swear someone had Super-glued her eyes wide open. Out of options, she traipsed to the bathroom for a sleeping pill. She’d weaned herself off of them, and hadn’t taken anything for several months. But, God, she had to get some sleep.
She leaned against the tiny sink in the bathroom, her head in her hands. Lane Whitmore seemed like a nice guy. He’d been friendly. And quick to come to her rescue. His smile sent warm shivers through her body. All good. So why did he make her feel like shit?
She rubbed her temples, willing the drugs to kick in. Lane’s words played through her mind in an endless loop. Battering her. Taunting her. A nice girl like her . . . Was it possible she looked like a “nice girl?” Was it possible she looked out of place at Jimmy’s? Maybe, years ago. But not now. The diner was so much a part of her now. The bad side of town was her home. It’s where she belonged.
At one time, she couldn’t have imagined being there. She would’ve graduated from college. Would’ve been with someone like Lane. If only they hadn’t moved to Texas. Mandi shook her head. If only she hadn’t put her brain in a closet.
**
Six forty-five came early. Without hesitation, Mandi hit the snooze button. Five minutes later, she cracked an eye open and smacked the button again before she rolled over. “All right, already,” she muttered.
When the alarm buzzed a third time, she forced herself to sit up. Half-way there. Moving at the rate of a slug, she finally pushed off from the bed and trudged into the bathroom. Thinking about the eight hours of typing ahead of her didn’t exactly light a fire of excitement under her. The best she could hope for was some filing or a special project to work on today.
She abbreviated her routine by clipping her damp hair back, then dabbed some foundation across the circles under her eyes. She’d be late, and that would mean she’d have to put in a few extra minutes at the end of the day. With a heavy sigh, she grabbed her uniform for Jimmy’s, and decided to throw in some jeans as well just in case Brittney or someone wanted to go out later.
Sometimes on the weekends they’d hit a bar or two, have a drink and listen to some music. Not that she’d be in any shape tonight to do much besides come home and crawl into bed. But she could always toss back an energy drink if necessary.
Turned out Brittney had a hot date for the night. Lucky her. Mandi hadn’t been on a date in ages. In fact, she hadn’t been anywhere to meet someone worthy of a date in ages. All the data entry employees at DataPlus were women, and meeting someone at the diner was a total long shot since–. Her heart skipped a beat, and her hands stilled above her keyboard. She’d met someone at the diner. Someone interesting. A date with Lane Whitmore? She mulled over the possibility. He hadn’t asked, but he’d been to the diner three times that week. He said he wanted information about Northtown, but maybe that was an excuse. After all, he’d asked Judy about her.
She remembered the warmth of his hand closing around hers, and his cute smile.
Just as quickly as her spirits lifted, they sank again. It was Friday. He hadn’t said where he’d come from. But of course he’d go home for the weekend. Who’d want to hang around Northtown?
“Psssst!”
Mandi jumped, then pushed herself up and peeked over the divider between workstations. “What?” she whispered to Brittney.
“What about tomorrow night?”
“Maybe. But what if your man wants another night?”
A smile spread across Brittney’s face, and she gave a quick toss of her hair. “Right. I’ll call you. Keep your fingers crossed. This one might have some potential.”
“You got it, girlfriend. Have fun.”
**
Mandi chugged the energy drink on the way over to Jimmy’s. She’d never make it through a Friday night there without some kind of boost. Her brain was fried.
The buzz of the dining room flooded her ears as soon as she stepped inside the back door. She blew out a breath and headed straight to the ladies room to change. She didn’t have to look to know she’d be hitting the ground running.
When she rounded the corner to start her shift, Gina's face loomed in front of her.
“’Bout time you showed up,” Gina said, smacking her chewing gum.
Mandi grimaced. Her watch said she was right on time. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to sound put off.
“Oh, Kendra begged me to trade with her. Ronnie’s out of town, so I figured I could do a favor.”
Right. Mandi knew what that meant. Gina loved to have the rest of the crew in her debt. Jeez, could the day get any better? While Gina reapplied her Popsicle-orange lipstick, Mandi began clearing dishes from a vacant place at the counter. Best to get busy and stay that way.
“You can take table six,” Gina said from behind her. “They’re probably ready to order.”
Without comment, Mandi snatched up an order pad. She knew the drill. Gina would cover the counter where she barely had to move her hefty ass, while Mandi handled the entire dining room. Gina thought being a friend of Jimmy’s wife made her special, and she didn’t miss a chance to prove it. Sometimes, if it was slow, Gina would take off early. Mandi said a quick prayer.
Lane stepped inside the diner, and immediately spotted the person he’d hoped to see. But she was taking an order with her back to the door, and she didn’t turn around. Tonight, he made his way to the bar. That seemed to be where the waitresses hung out when they weren’t busy. Maybe it’d give him a chance to talk to her. He hoped his timing was good, after the dinner rush. He took a seat at the far end where he had the best view of the whole place.
Lane looked up in surprise when a large middle-aged woman with orange hair and lips to match charged through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area. She stopped in front of him, her eyebrows shooting to her brassy hairline.
“Well, hi there, sugar,” she drawled. “What can I get you this evening?”
Aw, man. Lane knew he’d made a tactical error, but he forced a polite smile and ordered a Dr. Pepper. “Still thinking about dinner,” he added, glancing around the dining room.
“Alrighty then.” She drummed long painted fingernails on the counter in front of him. “You keep thinking while I get your drink, sweetie.”
He nodded, but his eyes followed Mandi. In the few minutes he’d been there, he’d watched her move from table to table. She’d interacted with several other customers, but Lane hadn’t seen her smile at anyone. Not even close. It was weird, and for some reason it bothered him. What in the world could’ve happened to make this girl so sad?
The waitress had just set his drink on the counter when Mandi started toward them. He knew when she saw him, because she paused a beat and her eyes widened. He wished the other woman would move out of the way, but she stood like a road construction barrel in front of him, nearly blocking his view. Mandi gave him a quiet ‘hi’ then slipped past Gina and posted tickets up in the window.
Lane grabbed his briefcase, and spoke to Gina. “Say, I think I’m gonna take one of those booths over there instead.” He lifted the Dr. Pepper. “Mind if I take this with me?”
Lips pursed, Gina glanced from him to Mandi then back again. “Suit yourself, sugar.”
Mandi did an internal eye roll when she heard Gina address Lane as “sugar.” She turned in time to see him slide into an empty booth – and to receive a sharp nudge in the side from the older waitress who jerked her head toward Lane.
“What in Hades was that all about?” she demanded.
Mandi shrugged. “No idea. Looks like he decided a booth would be more comfortable than the bar stool.”
With a scowl on her face, Gina looked across the room, then back at Mandi. “Well, he better order something. He can’t just sit here all night, you know.”
Oh, but that’s exactly what Mandi hoped he’d do. It was the incentive she needed. “Want me to get his order?” she asked sweetly.
“It’s your table,” Gina snapped. “I’m busy up here.”
When Mandi approached his table, Lane grinned.
Aware of Gina’s watchful eyes, Mandi kept a straight face. “Sorry about that,” she said, her voice low. “Gina’s a little intense.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he said. “You’re too nice.”
Her heart skipped a beat. That word again. She swallowed hard. “Did you want to order something to eat, or just the drink?”
“How are the omelets? Thought I might try one of those.”
Mandi nodded. “Sure. They’re good. Made to order, so it’ll be fresh.”
He leaned in, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Okay, sugar. On that recommendation, I’ll have a Denver omelet with hash browns. Thanks.”
Mandi turned in the order and mulled a plan in her head. God, she wished Gina wasn’t there. She could hardly think with that woman following her every move. She didn’t know if Gina would be bitchy enough to cause trouble for her. But what she did know was that she needed to be with someone tonight. And that someone was going to be Lane Whitmore.
She wasn't looking for love. Didn’t expect it. She knew that when she’d cheated Aaron out of love, she’d sealed her fate. But it didn’t keep her from being lonely, or longing for some physical contact. She stole a glance at Lane Whitmore. This guy seemed decent. And man, did he have the goods. She wouldn’t mind feeling his hands on her.
Gathering her courage, Mandi tore off a check from her pad and wrote on the back side of it. When she passed by his table, she slid the paper under his arm.
Lane looked up, gave her a smile, then took the paper. “Are you married?” he read. The jolt to his system probably could’ve registered on the Richter scale. With heat rushing through his veins, he picked up his pen and wrote, “No. Are you?”
She took the paper back, and a few minutes later, returned with a pitcher of Dr. Pepper. She set the note on the table.
“No. What are you doing at midnight?” was her response. His eyes scanned the words, and the collar of his shirt suddenly cinched around his neck. His gaze flew to her face, but it was blank as a card shark’s as she continued pouring the drink.
He hesitated only a beat then took his pen and scribbled his answer on the note. “Meeting you. Room two-fourteen.”
Since he didn’t have a family or significant other to rush home to, Lane figured he’d stick around and spend the weekend getting to know the town. His prospects just got a whole lot better.
His groin tightened as a ghost of a smile played about Mandi’s lips. Without speaking, she turned, and went about her business, stopping at other tables on her way back to the counter. He watched her for a moment, and checked himself. Maybe she just wanted some company. That could work, too. He wouldn’t mind spending a little time with her.
He’d turned back to the map in his hands when his phone vibrated on the tabletop. “Beer thirty?” He chuckled at the message from his friend Dan. Maybe someday. Their schedules didn’t allow for it near as much as they used to in college. “Can’t. Out of town. I’ll catch up with you next week,” he responded.
Lane shoved the papers into his briefcase. He couldn’t concentrate any longer. Flicking a glance at the clock on the wall, he blew out a breath. Only eight-thirty. What the hell was he going to do for three and a half hours?
Didn’t take long to think of a couple of things. He wolfed down the omelet without really tasting it, then tossed a bill on the table. With a quick nod in Mandi’s direction, he headed for the door.
He had no trouble finding a drug store. He picked up a box of condoms, and started toward the counter, until a refrigerated case caught his attention. Beer and wine. Not a bad idea. By the time he finally made it to the check-out counter, he’d added a can of mixed nuts, a box of chocolates, some mints, a six-pack of beer, and a bottle of wine. On impulse, he also lifted a single red rosebud wrapped in cellophane from a bucket nearby. Never hurts to take a girl a flower, his mother had drilled into his head. Maybe a flower would brighten Mandi’s day. He placed it on the counter – and ignored the glint of amusement in the eyes of the woman at the register. Looked like a damned fine night to him.
**
Mandi slipped into her jeans, and pulled a thin cotton shirt over her lace-trimmed camisole. No way was she showing up at his place wearing that gross uniform.
“Mandi, you about ready?” Carl hollered outside the women’s restroom.
Jesus God, what’s the big rush? “Yeah. Just a sec,” she called back. She glanced in the mirror. What she really needed was a little make-up, but she rarely wore it anymore. Too much trouble. Besides, she didn’t want to send out any wrong signals to folks around the diner. She applied an extra squirt of the lavender spritzer she kept in her purse, then ran a brush through her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and fluffed up the wispy bangs one more time. Oh, well, she sighed. This would have to do.
She shoved the uniform and shoes into a plastic bag, and tugged on the door. “Jeez, Carl, you got a hot date with your television tonight or what?”
“Maybe I do. Anyway, it’s past midnight, and I’m ready to get outta this place. So unless you wanna lock up on your own, move your skinny ass.”
She breezed past him. She knew he wouldn’t leave without her. That was Jimmy’s strictest rule. No women closed up alone.
Carl walked Mandi to her rusted Honda Civic, and waited while she started it. Thankfully, it took only a couple of tries before the engine fired up, belching a thin plume of exhaust into the air. Then she waited while Carl climbed into his pick-up. Once he was inside, she pulled onto the street, turning right like she always did. She went a few blocks then circled back around, just in case anyone was watching. No one needed to know her business.
She pulled into the hotel parking lot at about twelve-twenty, hoping Lane hadn’t given up, that he’d realize she’d have to stay and clean up. After a quick glance around, she took her small canister of pepper spray out of her purse and turned the nozzle to open. She stepped out of the car and hurried up the walkway, hoping the sound of her heels clicking on the concrete wouldn’t attract any attention. When a man pushed off from the door, she gasped and stopped short, her heart pounding.
“Hey,” Lane said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
His presence was reassuring, but his rich, deep voice did nothing to calm her heart rate. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for you. Didn’t want you out here by yourself.”
“Oh. Thanks. That’s nice.” Very nice. A gentleman.
When he extended his arm, she looked down, and hesitated just a beat before accepting the red rose he offered. Wow. So far, he was two-for-two on the thoughtful meter. As she took the rose, her fingers lightly brushed against Lane’s, causing a little catch in her throat. “Oh, I– well– thanks,” she stammered. “You didn’t need to do that.”
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Happy weekend.” He held her gaze a moment. “Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to hang out here or go someplace.”
She understood the unspoken question. He was leaving it up to her. There was no doubt in her mind that they’d end up in his room. Now or later. They could go through the motions of going to a bar, breaking the ice, maybe dancing to set the mood. But why bother? Tonight she didn’t want to play games.
Mandi swallowed hard and took a step toward him. “Here is fine.”
He nodded, then swiped his key card and opened the door. With his warm hand resting on the small of her back, he guided her to room two-fourteen.