Page 7 of Stolen By Her Alien Mate

Anyone coming in here looking for me can’t be good. I scramble through my brain trying to remember a bill I might be late on, but I can’t think of anything.

The only person I can imagine it might be is Mr. Forsyth, who runs the daycare at the local University. I applied for a part-time job there and was hired on a probationary status. I wish I could be full-time there, but even with that many hours, it wouldn’t be enough income to replace this job. But if I can work my way up to full-time, my tuition will be discounted. Which will let me transfer from the community college to the university. Which is step one in Joey’s-Awesome-List-of-Bigass-Goals.

I have no idea why Mr. Forsyth would come here instead of just calling, but he’s the only person I can think of. What if he’s come here to check on me to see how I am outside of the daycare? Is that something they do? To make sure you’re not a stripper on weekends and then teaching other people’s children during the day? Surely not.

I mean, not that I am a stripper. Because I am not. I snort just thinking about that. No one would pay to see my blindingly pale, chubby body trying to swing around a pole.

Heart pounding and nerves battering my belly, I close my eyes for a brief moment.

I move to the sink and do my best to turn on the water and wash my hands without getting syrup all over the faucet. As I dry my hands, I survey my appearance.

There’s already a grease stain on my sickly peach-orange uniform. The obligatory white frilly apron is less white and more grayish tan. And the skirt does absolutely nothing for my size eighteen ass. Lorraine is tall and thin, and on her the traditional diner uniform looks okay. But on me with my big boobs and bigger butt, I look like I’m trying for the sexy waitress at Halloween, but failing miserably at it.

At the moment, I do not exactly look like preschool teacher material.

Ah well, nothing to be done. This is who I am. This is my life and I’m doing my best to better my situation and reach goals. But everyone starts from somewhere.

I just hope I don’t have syrup in my hair. As long as the unexpected visitor isn’t from the community college, come to tell me they’ve made a mistake and I can’t be in their bookkeeping program, then I can handle it.

I take a cleansing breath and step around to the front.

Lorraine’s got her hip propped against the chrome lip of the counter. She’s laughing at something one of her customers has said. As I round the corner, a man stands to face me.

Everything inside me cringes.

This is not Mr. Forsyth.

Not by a long shot.

In fact Mr. Forsyth would have been a much better visitor.

Instead, it’s one of the dads who picked up his son the last two times I was working at the daycare. He’s obnoxiously flirty, despite the fact that he’s married. In fact, I can see his wife and his son, Luke, sitting in one of the booths.

Before I make it over to him, Lorraine grabs my arm and leans in close.

“I know he’s gross, but be careful. He’s one of the most influential people in this tiny ass town, and Big Mo trips all over himself when Brandon and his family come in.” Lorraine rolls her eyes. “You know he owns that big used car lot out on Highway 6? Thinks his shit don’t stink.”

I nod. I mean, I’d heard that about Brandon Jacks before, but they haven’t been frequent customers here. At least not during my shifts.

So why the hell is asking for me? He better not be making a complaint about something at the daycare.

I make my way over to the counter the man is leaning against. He’s not an unattractive man, but there’s still something about him that gives me the creeps.

“You asked for me?” I say. “Is there a problem?”

When he turns his head to face me, his gaze immediately locks on my cleavage. He licks his lips, then finally looks at my face. He gives me a lascivious smile.

“Hiya, darlin’. We just keep running into each other, don’t we?”

I tilt my head in confusion. “I’m sorry, have I met you before?”

Am I being petty pretending I don’t recognize him from the daycare? Yes, yes, I am. Am I sorry about that? Not even a little bit. People like him, who think they’re all that and a MoonPie, well, they just need a reminder now and then that we all put our pants on one leg at a time.

He bristles at my question, but then his smarmy smile is back.

“You wound me, darlin’ that you don’t remember.” He points at the booth where his wife and son are sitting. “I’m Luke’s daddy. We met at his school. Joanna, right?”

“Joey, actually. Yes, Luke is a sweet boy.”