a sudden, all I wanted was my “roasty toasty,” and I couldn’t have it. Like the world was mocking me.
I looked up to the counter, and part of me expected to see Simone’s mom there, where she always was near the register. Instead, it was the new owner, Ben. I had barely seen him since most of the time he was in the kitchen, but currently he was at the register. He looked up and seemed to recognize me. He waved.
I snapped off something that was probably a mixture of a wave and a salute, and his face dropped a little. Almost like a frown. Then he waved at Simone and David and went back into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Harriet was back with our food, and I huffed out a laugh when I saw my pancakes.
“What?” David asked.
“Look,” I said, turning the plate toward him. There was a smile made out of strawberries, with eyebrows made out of whipped cream in the center of the top pancake. It was adorable, and I realized he must have seen that I was in a bad mood and done that for me. I looked up and saw him looking my way, a big grin on his face.
The tension slowly started to fade away, and I fell into a more comfortable conversation with Simone and David while I ate. But every once in a while, I would look over to see Ben walking around. He was tall, and built, which I didn’t expect. His grey T-shirt was filled out pretty well, and muscular arms came out of the snug sleeves. The apron tied around him seemed to only accentuate how well-defined his chest was and how flat his stomach was. For someone working in a diner, that was a surprise.
He was striking to look at, with blue-grey eyes that stared out from deep-set eyelids, he was easily the best thing to look at in the diner, and I found myself having trouble keeping up with the conversation.
“Oh, Kathy,” Simone said when I asked her to repeat something else. “That case distracted the hell out of you.”
“Yup,” I said, my eyes following Ben around again. “That damn case.”
Chapter 3
Ben
On second thought, perhaps heading to the farmer’s market at six in the morning was a bit early for Cooper.
Usually on Saturdays in New York, Cooper was up at six, asking me to get out of bed and make him breakfast so he could go watch cartoons. Despite usually only having a couple of hours of sleep, I would oblige and then lie down on the couch with him and nap for a few hours more. If Tracy was home, sometimes she would tell me to go to bed and she would stay with him. Those days were rare. Usually, I napped while he quietly played video games or with his toys.
Since we had moved to Rockingham, his schedule had gotten all out of whack doing internet-based schooling. As a result, Saturdays no longer featured his particular brand of alarm. But a tip from a vendor said that some of the freshest fruit and vegetables were already gone by seven and that if I wanted the good stuff, I would have to hit the twice-weekly fresh market extravaganza before then.
Now I was struggling with Cooper on my hip, his little arms draped around my neck as I walked, hunched over, holding him under his rear end with one arm and my bags with the other. The poor little guy was worn-out, and we had walked to the market which was only a few blocks away near the fire station. I was regretting pretty much all of the decisions I made that morning as I paused to shift things around and try not to drop my son on his head.
Suddenly, there were hands helping me. Cooper was lifted from my arms and I spun to see who was there. A friendly-faced guy in a fire department T-shirt was holding Cooper, and a woman beside him held a little girl who couldn’t be more than two.
“Oh thanks, you don’t have to do that,” I said.
“It’s cool, man. You just looked like you were really struggling,” he said. “I’m Austin. I work at the fire department.”
I shook his hand and turned to the woman beside him.
“Hi, I’m Beth,” she said. “You might remember me, I’m Simone’s friend. We met once before.”
“Oh, right, Beth, yes. You own the health food grocer up the street, right?” I asked, proud