You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(57)
She looked tired as she set the menu in front of him and reached out to turn up his coffee cup. She had dark, puffy circles under her eyes, and her face looked wan. Even her shoulders sagged. The woman seemed exhausted, the kind of tired that sank into one’s bones and made each step feel like a slog through mud.
“Welcome to Babe’s,” she said, pouring coffee before asking if he wanted decaf, or even coffee at all. Marc was tempted to invite her to sit down—before she fell down—but wasn’t smooth enough to pull that off without sounding like a creep or making her feel uncomfortable. He decided to make an extra effort to be a good customer instead.
And leave a good tip.
“We’re out of the steak for steak and eggs. The orange juice is fresh squeezed.” That bit was said with an edge to her voice, as if she would be the one squeezing it and he would be the one regretting ordering it. Not only did she seem weary from lack of sleep, but she seemed weary from life, he judged from the way light seemed to try—and failed—to flicker in her eyes. “Everything else is on the menu. I’ll give you a minute to look it over. Ya want water?”
If she was as worn-down as he was guessing, it was no wonder she sounded eager to get rid of him. Perversely, he liked the careless tone she addressed him with. Excellent customer service was nice, but the barely-on-the-edge of polite waitress with cherry-red lips was far more interesting. Especially one who was as cute as she was in her short skirt and ruffled white apron.
“No water,” he said.
She wobbled slightly as she turned to walk away, her skirt swinging almost as much as her hair. God, it barely covered her butt. He looked up, embarrassed to be staring at the backs of her thighs.
“Wait,” he called to her back. “What should I get?”
When she turned around to look at him, her face had softened and there was the hint of a smile on her lips, giving him a glimpse of the woman she might be underneath her fatigue. When he and Curtis had been spending days and nights building their app, he’d had times when no amount of coffee would help to keep his eyelids open. And here she was, even managing a smile. It was impressive. And intriguing.
“Get the Elk Chips. Roasted potatoes, scrambled eggs, peppers, sausage, and cheese all in one big pile, topped with sour cream and salsa. It’s basically everything you could want in a breakfast.”
“And what if I’m a sweet guy?” he asked, attempting an easy, flirtatious tone, something he’d never had much success with. However, now that he’d seen her smile, he didn’t want her to leave the table and he was going to give it everything he had.
She mustered another small smile. “Huckleberry pancakes. Babe picks the berries herself—at patches she won’t tell anyone else about. If you’ve never had real huckleberries, you should get those. Babe makes the huckleberry syrup, too.”
“I’ll have that, then. I want you to remember my sweetness.” God, he’d meant that sincerely, but even he could hear that he sounded like an ass covered in slime.
Her smile disappeared, replaced by raised eyebrows and suspiciously narrowed eyes. “Was that supposed to be a pickup line?”
He shrugged, chagrined. “I’m just trying to make your day better, not worse.”
Her eyebrows remained up. “So pickup line or not?”
Smooth, he wasn’t. She probably heard cracks like that all the time from random men who walked into Babe’s Diner and wanted to see a smile on her face.
“Somewhere in between,” he offered, trying to verbally back away without fully retreating.
She continued to look unimpressed. “You know, pickup lines are almost never successful with women, and especially not when delivered halfheartedly.”
He laughed at the truth of the matter. The town sign had said the population was 692. On his way to the diner he’d seen a vet’s office, a bar, a hardware store, and a steakhouse, but no McDonald’s. So it wasn’t that she was sick of all the strangers coming in and hitting on her, he realized. It was that he’d tried, struck out, and then was being a coward about it.
“You’re right,” he said, shaking his head at himself. “Well, here’s the honest truth. I suck at being smooth. If I’d wanted to impress you, I should have talked nerdy to you. I’m good at that.”
To his surprise—and apparently to hers, too—she laughed. Her entire face brightened. For a brief moment, the dark circles were gone from under her eyes and the little Christmas bells hanging from her ears jingled. Pleasure filled his chest. He was as proud as if he’d just dragged an enormous dead animal to the cave of the woman he was trying to impress. At least he knew enough not to bang on his chest.
“That was better,” she said with a smile and a shake of her holly-tipped pen. “Huckleberry pancakes it is. Comes with bacon or sausage.”
“Bacon, please.”
She nodded, a hint of a smile still present on her lips. “It’ll go with your sweetness.”
This time, when she walked away, he didn’t feel guilty for enjoying the view before picking up his mug of coffee. He took a sip, prepared to grimace at the stale, pre-ground coffee, and was stunned by the rich, smooth liquid that jolted him awake. He pulled Megan out of his pocket and skimmed through his e-mail. A couple of messages from his dating app profile, which he deleted without looking at. Some e-mails thanking him for entering some contest—his mother’s doing. And there, buried in the midst of the junk, was the e-mail he had been expecting from Curtis.