Have you ever watched something that makes you want to look away but for some reason you just can't tear your eyes from the view in front of you? For the past two hours I'd been doing exactly that, sneaking regular peeks at the couple sitting over by the window while I tried to focus on my job at the same time. Unfortunately every minute that passed by had me doing a lot more peeking than working.
It couldn't be helped, though. Logan had been my first high school crush, my only one really. We hadn't run into each other once in the ten years since graduation, so setting eyes on him again had ended up having the same impact it did back when I first became infatuated.
He'd dressed in a dark suit and white shirt, his loosened tie giving the impression he wasn't all that comfortable wearing this kind of get up. His short brown hair had been slicked back as well, but the way he kept lifting his hand to run his fingers through it then stopping at the last second as if he'd just remembered he couldn't, made me think he might still prefer that slightly messy, mostly sexy look he had in his younger years.
While I leaned against the bar and waited for Sarah to fill my drink order, I noted how well the years had treated him. The lanky body I remembered as a teenager had filled out nicely, turning him into a tall, solid hunk of man, the kind who looked like he could easily toss a girl over his shoulder—maybe a scrawny waitress with long brown hair and a too-smart mouth—then haul her off to the bedroom where he'd...
Hmm.
Something about the way he and the woman related to each other made me think tonight's date might be a little different from their usual. Possibly the tension in his shoulders or the way she kept preening and rearranging herself for maximum impact; a little cleavage here, a lot more leg there—and what was with all that glancing around to check if anyone other than Logan had noticed?
They were all smiles when they arrived at the restaurant, but it didn't take long to work out that hers was all for show. When I first approached their table his gaze dropped to my name tag, not lingering in a suggestive way like some guys did, just dropping for a second to gather the information he needed, then he met my eyes again and smiled.
"Thought it was you," he said, oblivious to the fact that one look from him could still knock me on my ass.
"Yep. Yeah, it's me." I nodded like an idiot and had to mentally remind myself I'd long since moved on from my awkward teenage years. "Hey, Logan."
He smiled again and I swear my knees trembled. "Hey, Lace. How've you been?"
"Good, good. You?"
"Good, too. This is Celeste." He indicated the dark-haired woman sitting opposite him with a nod of his head. I swung my gaze across to her just in time to see the tight, closed-lipped smile she spared me before slanting a look Logan's way as if to say: Really? You're introducing me to the wait staff?
While I tapped my fingers on the bar and watched the two of them now, I pictured myself shoving her out of the way so I could drag him to the cruisy, late-night café down the road, where the two of us could relax, sip good coffee and enjoy each other's company. If all went well maybe invite him back to my place and help him out of that constricting suit...
"Lacey, shake it off. You're giving him sex eyes again. It's getting creepy."
"Whoops." I glanced at Sarah just in time to catch the end of an eye roll. She completed my drink order for Logan and his harpy then slid the loaded tray across to me. I flashed her a smile as I collected it from the bar. "Okay, okay, you're right. I'm done now, I promise."
She tucked her chin length blonde hair behind her ear and gave me an amused look that suggested she didn't believe a word of what I'd just said. "Don't worry about it. I guess this kind of thing's bound to happen when you're unintentionally celibate."
My smile turned into a laugh. I flipped her off with my free hand then turned and walked away.
No more than three steps later I stopped so suddenly that some of the chardonnay sloshed from the wine glasses. I slipped a cloth from my apron and alternated between working on the mess and staring in disbelief at the man I'd been not so secretly stalking all night.
The idiot had pushed his chair back and pulled a ring box from his jacket pocket. My fingers gripped the tray and I sucked in a breath, holding it in while my heart pounded. I wanted to scream Noooo! and run at him in slow motion. Take a dive and whack that thing out of his hand before he made the single biggest mistake of his life—a life I admittedly knew next to nothing about these days, but still.
Instead, all I could do was stand there with my mouth shaped into a slackened O while I waited for the inevitable.
He dropped to the floor beside her and made a speech I had no chance of making out from where I stood. I doubted the other diners could hear it either, but when the idea had caught on that something big was about to happen, a low ripple of conversation went through the room and people set down their cutlery to focus on the show.
While he went ahead and bared his silly, misguided heart to the woman, she sat upright and watched on in smug silence, the emotion on her face striking me as strange and unsurprising all at the same time. No excitement, no tenderness, just an odd look of triumph.
Then he opened the velvet box to offer her the contents...
And she clapped a hand over her mouth to smother a laugh.
My throat constricted and I watched on in horrified amazement. She waited a few beats then pulled her hand away and said in a volume loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear, "You're joking, right? You're loaded and that's the best you can do. The ring has to be what—less than a carat?" Her laugh had a hysterical edge to it and she leaned away from him as if she didn't want the icky, carat deficient ring anywhere near her.
What. A. Bitch.
My limbs chose that moment to start working again and I purposefully took the dive I'd only imagined earlier. The tray toppled first and I tumbled to the floor soon after, hitting the carpet hard enough to make it look like I might have cracked a couple of ribs. The sound of smashing glass drew everyone's attention and thankfully gave Logan what I assumed would be a much needed chance to recover.
Several people gathered around to help me to my knees. I mumbled a few thank yous and apologies, sneaking a look through the small crowd to watch Logan's intended fiancé grab her evening bag and stand beside the table. She shook off his final attempt to placate her then stalked from the restaurant with her mouth set in a determined line. I watched on in surprise, unable to decide if it felt like a victory or a defeat.
