At some point in that late afternoon I caught myself staring out the diner’s window at the cars on the highway. It had been a quiet Wednesday so far. I had just finished refilling some customer’s coffee and wiping a couple of tables and there was nothing really left to do. That is, except for restocking the sugar and cream – but I could do that later.
I squeezed the damp cloth in my hand and let out a soft sigh. A lot had happened since the last time I worked here. I got married. I moved. Never in my worst nightmares had I imagined I’d find myself working as a waitress again, at the same spot I worked at when I was in my early twenties.
“Miss!”, the bus driver in the plaid shirt shouted from across the room. He lifted his cup. More coffee. Sure.
By the time I returned my gaze to the window it had started to rain. I made my way to the kitchen and put my head through the swinging door. “It’s started to rain, boys. You may expect more movement around here for the next hour or so.”
It feels almost sad to say that the possibility to have more customers coming in due to the rain was the most exciting part of my week so far. But it was true. I was definitely at a low point in my life and even though I was still 27, a part of me felt older and miserable. The chores were tiring. The libido was gone. The wild career plans had gone to shit.
Suddenly, I heard a bell and the clinking sound of coins or keys in a pocket. I look up and immediately stop my pacing. This tall, charming figure looks at me with a smirk. He’s wearing a cowboy hat that would look ridiculous if it didn’t fit so perfectly with his persona. His shirt is a bit wet on the shoulders and his boots leave wet prints on the floor. A sudden heat seems to take over my body. I question myself why on Earth have I found him so sexy, but I can’t seem to find the answer.
“Good evening, gorgeous”, he says. Gorgeous? Really? That’s corny.
I look at his eyes and find them glancing at the name tag on my top. “Katherine, right?”, he says. “Can I get some coffee? Hot.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t go for a cold one in this rain”, I reply.
He walks past me, his shoulder almost rubbing against mine, and sits on a booth by the window. “I suppose”, he nods, taking off his hat and revealing his grayish hair. I’d guess he was about 20 years older than me. No ring. Beard. I turned around to get his coffee, his face imprinted in my head as my thoughts went wild. The way that guy sparked my interest made me feel like I hadn’t felt in a long time, and God knows how much I ached to feel wanted again, and how much I needed to want someone as badly as I wanted him.