Squeaked like a toy mouse and dived below the window.Īlready, the guy caught me staring or stealing glances at him all the time. I started and nearly brained myself again when my eyes locked with eyes so light a green they were verging on yellow.Īnd of course I did the most mature, least humiliating thing possible. I rubbed my head vigorously, trying not to cuss and glanced through the window to make sure nobody noticed the one or two words I let slip under my breath. And something told me, even if he was gay––which let’s face it, that just wasn’t how my luck ran, ever––he wouldn’t be interested in some skinny, computer nerd who’s fear of needles made it to where he would probably never be able to stay conscious long enough to get a tattoo. In all, he made a very intimidating, very sexy, very straight looking specimen. Today, since it was now the middle of May, he’d ditched his long sleeves for short, showing off muscular, heavily inked arms where they crossed over his massive chest, while he sat at the booth in the corner closest to the swinging door that lead to the back with a pretty blonde who looked like she'd never laughed a day in her life.
His short on the sides and long on top, black hair was constantly finger raked and his equally black beard well groomed. Always in a dark colored, tight t-shirt, worn, well fitting jeans and steal-toed boots.
The love of my life was a gorgeous Adonis of a man who came into the diner where I've worked as a cook for the last three months, on a daily, sometimes twice daily basis. He'd yet again caught me watching him through the order window like some creep and I'd tried to duck behind the wall, but forgot the part where you pull your damn head in.
"Motherfu…grr!" I reached up to rub the growing knot on my head, momentarily forgetting the reason I’d cracked my brain on the cabinet in the first place was because I was in the process of hiding from the fantasy on legs I mentally referred to as the love of my life.
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