Tracking the Bear (Blue Ridge Bears Book 1)(2)

You’re not alone now, stupid. I chided myself. I had my Aunt Carol and Uncle Mack. I had Millie. Hell, on summer break and holidays, I had my brother Luke. I wasn’t alone.

And where the hell did my subconscious get off trying to stake a claim on this guy? He’d just walked in the door about three seconds before.

The smaller part of my brain that wasn’t busy gawking noted that he had a pronounced five o’clock shadow, and looked like he’d missed a few nights of sleep. I focused on that, trying to orient myself, hoping my jaw wasn’t flapping in the wind. He was hot, sure, but he looked like he’d been put through the mill in the last couple of days. The least I could do was be professional.

I cleared my throat. “Would you like a table or a booth?”

His eyes finally seemed to release me, and he looked the rest of my body over, lingering overlong on my cleavage. I resisted the urge to adjust the tank top. Damn thing had a tendency to ride low, especially if I’d bent over a lot, as I did when bussing tables. His lips quirked upwards a little in the barest hint of a smile and then he finally looked away from me.

“A booth, please.”

My legs quivered a little. Did everything about him have to be perfect? Hair, body, eyes, and his sonorous voice. I grabbed two menus from the tray by the door and turned on my heel, trusting he’d follow. I’d get Millie to wait his table. It was clear that my professional work ethic had gone camping somewhere with my sanity, and I wasn’t going to interact with this man until it returned home.

He sat down, taking up most of one booth all by himself. I set his menu down on the table in front of him, and then placed the other in the seat directly across from where he sat. He frowned at it.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“I figured someone as handsome as you had a date. Aren’t you meeting someone?”

He shook his head once, rubbing sheepishly at the strong line of his jaw. Stubble rasped against his palm, and I shivered. I wanted to know what his stubble would feel like brushing my skin. I needed to get Millie out of the back as soon as possible to deal with this guy. I couldn’t do this to myself. I wouldn’t.

“No date.” He said. “But if you like, you can join me on your break. I’m not in any hurry to leave Fairchild.”

That made one of us. I was getting out of this hellhole as soon as I could. That enabled me to plaster on a false smile and make my retreat.

“I might have to take a rain check on that Mister…?”

“Kassower,” he finished. “Chance Kassower.”

“Kassower.” I rolled his name around my mouth, tasting the contours of it. It was a nice, rugged name for an outdoorsy kind of guy. “Right. Well, Mr. Kassower, your server, Millie, will be right out to get your order.”

I limped back across the room, fighting the urge to look back and see if he was still staring at me.

“Big guy at table four is waiting on you,” I muttered to her as I passed. Millie gave me an odd look.

“Why didn’t you take him?” she whispered back. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but eye candy like that doesn’t usually walk into places like this.”

How did I explain to her that it was part of the problem? I couldn’t lay down any more roots here. Handsome he might have been, but I knew a country boy when I saw one. He was practically radiating good-ol’-boy charm. I knew his type. I couldn’t get involved with his type. He may not have been from Fairchild, but he was from somewhere just as small, just as remote, and far away from the sort of life I wanted to live.

“Can you just take it, please? I’ll owe you.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“Sure,” I sighed. “I’ll donate twenty bucks to the buy-a-wrench foundation.”

“I’m buying myself a ratchet extender, I’ll have you know. They are different.”

“I don’t speak mechanic Millie, you’ll have to forgive the ignorance.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Oh come on, your brother worked for my dad for a few years. You at least know what a ratchet is.”

I did, actually, but riling Millie with inaccurate automotive terminology was one of the simple joys in my life.

“Guy on table four. Go,” I said, and gave her a light shove out of the kitchen. She sauntered over to the table, and I felt an odd ripple of jealousy. So what if Millie thought that Chance guy was hot? It was no skin off my nose.

I pestered Brandy twice more about cutting Sammy off, and when I was ignored yet again, I called Randy and left a message. I hated to be a downer on his day off, but someone had to keep Brandy in line. She clearly wasn’t going to listen to me.

I ran into Millie on her way back to the kitchen. She was positively buzzing with excitement, and I was sure that Mr. Good-ol’-boy had extended his supper invitation to another waitress. Jerk.

“He’s got a Firebird, Lucy.” She gushed, grabbing ahold of my shirt front. She hauled me down so I was eye-level. “A 1969 Firebird Convertible! You’re nuts for turning down a date with that guy!”

“What? How did you know he asked me out?”

Millie shrugged. “He told me. Come on Lucy, take your break and talk to the guy.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended, and I saw Mr. Lonesome himself perk up out in the restaurant proper, listening in.