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Well, I guess it’s about time she finds out then. Before things go too far and I end up making her mine in every way, shape, and form. Because if that happens, I’m never giving her up.
2
TEAGAN
So…he’s a lot scarier outside, up close. Like a lot scarier.
But there must be something wrong with me because the scariness is just making my interest in him even stronger. I want to know more, even if he looks like the type of guy who could snap someone in half with his bare hands.
I don’t even know his name, but I know he’s been coming into Daisy's Diner to see me, day after day. I know he’s dangerously gorgeous—so handsome that every other woman I work with talks about him whenever he makes an appearance.
And so what if I’m a little jealous over a guy whose name I don’t even know? He’s my regular after all, and that’s something at least. Watching this man walk into the restaurant every morning— so tall that he almost has to duck to get into the door—is the highlight of my day. Not just because I know he’s going to leave me a ridiculous tip, but because he’s the definition of eye candy.
He’s so broad that it’s clear he has to have his suits custom tailored, and whoever his tailor is deserves a raise and then some because, holy moly, does he look mouthwatering in said suits. His eyes are so dark brown that they’re almost black…at least I thought so. Out here, they remind me more of whiskey than dark chocolate.
His hair, though, is still just as inky, with the slightest hint of silver at the temples. He has a masculine face, square jaw, Roman nose, and thick eyebrows, but those lips…this man’s lips look so kissable that it drives me to distraction. They should look strange on his otherwise rough-hewn features, but instead, they just make him look even more devastatingly handsome. Add in the dark stubble and the deep, baritone voice, and I’m basically putty every time he speaks to me. At the age of nineteen, the boys that have been on my radar are nothing like this man. Maybe that’s why he intrigues me so much.
There’s no reason for me to feel like I have some sort of claim on him, but here we are. In the parking lot of my job, with him leaning up against a freaking Rolls Royce and looking at me with hooded eyes.
Does he not see me? I’m just a waitress—probably way too young and too naive for this man, but I’m not about to be the one to tell him to leave. The truth is, I’ve felt such a powerful connection to him from the second I laid eyes on him that I think this moment, this face-to-face confrontation, has been unavoidable ever since. Thinking he might feel the same connection is too much to hope for, I know, but he has to feel something similar, right?
All of these thoughts are running through my head at a million miles per hour. I’m infinitely glad he can’t read my mind because I might just sink into the ground in embarrassment. We stare at each other for a long, impossible moment until he finally clears his throat.
“Yes? Did I forget something?”
Oh no, I can’t even recall what I even said to him! What’s my excuse for being out here, besides my curious, borderline inappropriate interest in him? “Um, no. Not really. You didn’t.”
He raises one dark eyebrow. “Not really?”
I don’t know what I was thinking, following him out into this parking lot. I just couldn’t take it anymore. The gazes. The accidental brushing of his hand. The BIG tips. He’s basically been paying all my bills all on his own, and he doesn’t even know it.
I’m aware that he does not come for our greasy breakfast dishes or our weak coffee. Even Naomi, our cashier, reports that when he sees me interacting with another male customer, his eyes narrow. But what if I'm mistaken and nothing of it has any significance? What if I'm just "confronting" him only to end up humiliating myself?
The man's fascinating with his hands in his pockets. He exudes danger, causing other diners to always give him a wide berth and take care to sit as far away from him as they can. He might make me feel like I’m at a loss for words, but I’m still not afraid like everyone else. Something about him comforts me…makes me let my guard down. I feel safe and that no one, not even my stalker-like ex, can hurt me when he's around.
"Why are you here all the time?" I sputter. In my mind, I rehearsed a speech over and over again so I wouldn’t lose my cool. So much for that, I guess. After this weird interaction, he might not ever come back. "I mean…I think we both know that the food and coffee here are trash. It’s obvious from the way you’re dressed and this car,” I wave towards his vehicle, “that you can afford to dine in the finest places. So why is this the place you keep returning to?”
I instantly transform into a lustful lump of mush when he smirks. When he looks down, I have to stop myself from rubbing my thighs together, desperate for any sort of contact that might help with the all-consuming need that he inspires in me. “Are you trying to tell me that you don’t like me coming around, Teagan?”
The way his mouth keeps quirking up at the corner lets me know that he’s all too aware of what he’s doing to me. “H-how do you know my name?”
“It’s on the top of the receipt, sweet thing.” He chuckles, and I suppress a shiver. Sweet thing! Is he trying to kill me right here, right now?
I feel like an idiot. Of course, it’s on the freaking receipt I bring him every day. “Oh. Well…um…I do like that you come in. I just can’t figure out why…and I don’t even know your name at this point, which seems weird, because I feel like I’ve known you forever….”
“Tobias.” He cuts me off. “My name is Tobias.” When I don’t respond, he moves smoothly to take my hand in his, ghosting the softest kiss over my knuckles and lighting a fire inside me that I don’t think will ever be quenched. My core is absolutely throbbing, my panties sticking to me uncomfortably.
“Tobias,” I breathe, a little stunned when I pull my hand back to my side. “It’s nice to meet you. Officially, I mean. But you still haven’t told me why you’re always here.”
The thing is, as soon as he kissed my hand, I knew exactly why he kept frequenting my diner. It’s the same reason I make sure to get his table each and every time, even before he has the chance to request me. Tobias feels some sort of connection too. I just know it. It makes my breathing uneven, the possibilities spreading out in front of me infinitely.
So…what now?
Tobias confirms my suspicion by crossing his arms, leaning against his car once more and raking me from head to toe with his eyes. “I think you already know, but I bet you want me to say it, huh?”
My eyes go wide. “Huh?”
“You want me to tell you how I keep coming to eat at this shithole because of you, right? How I don’t even taste the food anymore, how you could just serve me a plate of wood chipping and it wouldn’t even matter because I’m not hungry for a fucking diner breakfast. I’m hungry for?—”
