Page 15 of Diesel

Inside, the diner looked exactly like every other small-town establishment I’d ever been in. Vinyl booths lined the windows, their seats cracked but clean. A counter ran along the back wall, six stools bolted to the floor at regular intervals. Pictures covered every available surface—local sports teams, faded newspaper clippings, someone’s very optimistic attempt at landscape photography.

A woman in her sixties looked up from behind the counter, her face creasing into a smile when she spotted Diesel. “Hey, hon. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been busy, Millie.” Diesel returned the smile, and something about the easy familiarity between them made my shoulders relax slightly. “This is Ollie.”

Millie’s sharp, assessing eyes landed on me. Whatever she saw must have passed muster because her smile widened. “Nice to meet you, honey. Any friend of Diesel’s gets the good booth.”

“There’s a good booth?” I asked. They all looked the same to me, making me wonder which one she was talking about.

“Corner one. Best view of the town.” She grabbed two menus from beside the register and led us toward the back corner, her sensible shoes squeaking slightly on the linoleum. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Diesel said, sliding into one side of the booth.

“Make that two.” I sat across from him, accepting the menu Millie handed over. The plastic cover was sticky, and several items had been crossed out and rewritten in ballpoint pen. I loved how authentic it felt.

Millie returned with two mugs and a pot of coffee that looked like it could strip paint. She filled both mugs to the brim, steam rising in lazy curls. “Special tonight is meatloaf. I’ll give you two a minute to decide.”

She disappeared back toward the kitchen, leaving us alone in our corner booth with our paint-stripper coffee. I wrapped my hands around the mug, appreciating the warmth even though the evening was balmy. I needed something to do with my hands that didn’t involve fidgeting or making awkward gestures.

“So.” The word escaped even though I had no idea what else to say. “You come here often?”

I’d never claimed to be good at flirting, and it was showing. I needed to spend more practice time in the mirror.

Diesel’s lips slightly parted. “Did you just use a pickup line on me after I already picked you up?”

Now I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “Maybe. Words are hard right now.”

“Why?” He leaned back, one arm stretched along the top of the booth, completely at ease while I was busy having a minor crisis across from him.

Say you have to use the bathroom then use a side exit.

Don’t you dare run away like a chicken. He’s hot and you’re horny. Tough it out.

Will both of you shut up?

Great, I was referring both halves of my brain.

“Because you’re—” I gestured vaguely at all of him, my hand flapping up and down like I was shooing away a fly. “And I’m—” I gestured at myself with significantly less enthusiasm. “And this is a date, which you confirmed, so now my brain is trying to process that while also remembering how to function as a human person, and clearly I can only do one of those things at a time.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath, wishing the booth would swallow me whole.

Diesel’s expression softened. “Breathe, Ollie.”

“Right. Breathing. I know how to do that.” I took another breath. Then another, feeling like I was seconds from passing out. “Sorry. I’m not usually this much of a dweeb.”

“You’re not a dweeb.”

A bark of laughter escaped me. “I used a pickup line on someone who’s already on a date with me. I wouldn’t blame you if you dropped me off and never spoke to me again. Or made me walk home.”

Diesel’s gorgeous grin made me take another deep breath. Did he know how devastating he was to someone’s nervous system? Probably used that smile like a loaded weapon because I sure as hell felt it target locked on me.

“It was kind of cute.”

My hands tightened around the mug. “Cute.” Just what a guy wanted to hear. Not sexy or charming. Freaking cute.

“Yeah.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and those blue eyes gazed into mine. “You gonna relax, or do I need to do something about that?”

“What would you do about it?” My brain shot straight to that tropical island, my tongue licking droplets of water from his skin. My cock perked right up, eager for whatever Diesel had in mind.