Page 17 of His to Hunt

If she’s lucky, I’ll be able to keep my instincts under control.

If I can’t… well, that’s her fault, isn’t it?

CHAPTER 6

Taryn

I don’t know what’s going on with me, but I’m having another rough day.

I didn’t wake up feeling hungover today, which is a relief, and my stomach has settled down. Today, I’ve been dealing with the overwhelming sensation that someone is watching me. If that wasn’t bad enough, I’m also weirdly aroused for no reason at all. I mean, it’s been a while, but that’s just the story of my life.

“Order up!” Joe calls out. “Table six!”

“Got it!” I say, hurrying to the counter.

Joe asked me out this morning and I turned him down. He’s been staring at me more than usual ever since. That’s definitely not the reason I’m aroused. Yuck! The thought of going out with him is almost enough to turn my stomach. The thought of him actually touching me is even worse.

The worst part is that Frank encouraged it. He said Joe and I flirt all the time, which isn’t true. I guess Frank really doesn’t care who I end up with, just as long as I’m not his problem anymore. I get it. I’m an unwanted basement guest and I’ve overstayed my welcome.

It’s not the first time he’s acted like I should be grateful for male attention, no matter where it comes from. Regulars. Delivery guys. A guy from Frank’s church asked me if I’d ever considered becoming a stepmother before he asked my last name. Frank thought that guy deserved a chance too.

But I’m basically free labor, so I’m pretty sure I’m earning my keep. He barely pays me anything because he thinks my real money should come from tips. I wish the customers felt the same way he does.

I approach table six and put a smile on my face. “Alright, I’ve got your burger and fries, ma’am,” I say, putting the plate down in front of her before turning to the man across the table. “And a ham sandwich with tater tots for you, sir.”

“I asked for ketchup,” the man snaps, looking at his plate.

“Yes, sir, right over there,” I respond, gesturing to the ketchup bottle on his table.

“I like my ketchup cold. Got any ketchup in the fridge?” he asks.

“Um, we may have a bottle, yes. I’ll be right back,” I say, turning toward the kitchen.

I hurry into the kitchen and open the fridge. There are a few bottles of ketchup, so I grab one. When I turn around, Joe is so close I can smell his breath, which hasn’t gotten any better since this morning.

“We need to talk. I think we got off on the wrong foot this morning,” he says.

“Joe, look, you’re nice… really, I’m sure there’s someone for you, but it’s not me. You’re old enough to be my grandfather.”

“Which is exactly what Frank says you need,” he assures me with undeserved confidence. “An experienced man.”

“Frank said that?” I ask, shocked. I shake it off. “It doesn’t matter. This just isn’t going to happen. I need to take this ketchup to table six.”

“We’ll talk later,” Joe says, walking back to the grill.

Hopefully, I can avoid that conversation. Joe always works a double shift, so I’ll be out of here before he gets off work. I just need to avoid him until then. Maybe that’s why it feels like someone is watching me. I’m so creeped out by Joe it’s messing with my head. Still doesn’t explain the arousal, though.

I take the ketchup to table six and notice there’s a man at table ten with his back to me. He must have slipped in while I was in the kitchen. Joe had me so rattled I didn’t even hear the bell on the front door.

I grab my coffeepot and a glass of water before I start walking toward table ten. Even from behind, I can tell the man has a powerful, muscular frame. You don’t see many guys around here built like this guy. He has broad shoulders and biceps that stretch the sleeves on the black T-shirt he’s wearing. His hair is charcoal black and hangs almost to his shoulders.

Every step I take seems to make the arousal worse. It’s a lot stronger now. Surely my body isn’t reacting to Joe’s unwanted attention. No, that still makes my stomach churn uncomfortably, so that isn’t it. I guess it’s just been so long since I’ve had a man in my life that the sight of a muscular guy is enough, even if I haven’t seen his face yet.

“Hello, sir. Welcome to Covington Diner,” I say as I get to the table.

The man looks up, and he’s got the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. I get lost in them for a moment, like I don’t know how to look away. They’re almost black, but not empty. There’s something burning in them. Something focused. Something that makes every nerve in my body tingle with the same confusing arousal I’ve been dealing with all morning.

“Coffee?” I ask, my hand trembling when I put his water down and flip his coffee cup over.