Whatever this was, it was the kind of fun that could quickly kindle into something beyond. That’s what my instincts were telling me. But with the hopeless romantic gene pool I came from, I didn’t know whether to trust my gut. Whichever way my heart told me to go, I usually ran in the opposite direction.
But how was he feeling? He seemed to be enjoying this just as much as I was. And like me, he went into it with his eyes wide open. He was counting on three months. But what if—
“The amount of internalizing you’re doing right now is going to give you an ulcer.” Chad patted me gently on the back. “This isn’t something you need to decide tonight. Get through the next class first,” he said, laughing and joining the rest of the group.
“What are we making next week, Roxie?” an intern asked expectantly, and the diner fell silent as the group waited for my answer.
Leo stopped sweeping, the broom beneath his chin as he leaned against it, waiting.
I glanced to the counter, spying a stack of cooking magazines that my mom ignored monthly in favor of the diner usuals. On the cover was a big blue bowl filled with linguine, clams, and tomato sauce.
“We’re canning tomatoes,” I blurted, my eyes on Leo.
Who was beaming.
Chapter 16
My best friend Natalie moaned. “Do you know what I’m having right now?” It sounded like she had a mouth full of something. “Guess.”
“Judging by the moaning, I’m going to guess a big, beautiful dick.” I laughed when she starting choking.
She’d called as I was taking a break between the breakfast and lunch rush, and I was eager to get caught up with her. I slid into the corner behind the unused coat rack for privacy, balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear. The diner had been busier than usual, the lull between breakfast and lunch getting shorter each day.
We always closed early on the Fourth of July and stayed closed on the fifth, a minibreak for the staff. I was eagerly looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing. Or perhaps putting my feet up, and around, a certain green-eyed gorgeous. Mmm. But back to Natalie . . .
“Ass, I could have died. Death by pot sticker!”
“Natalie! You’re at House of Wong without me? I’m the one who should be saying ass, ass! You know those are my favorite pot stickers—how could you tease me like that! I’m so jealous.”
“Girl, please—you’ve been in Bailey Falls for how many weeks, and you haven’t once popped into the city. I don’t feel bad about this at all. Hear that?” Cue slurping. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.
“Are you having their soup dumplings?”
Slurp. Slurp, slurp. “I’m sick of waiting for you to get your cute little ass down here. What the hell is going on up there?”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I groaned, imagining the bamboo steamer filled with perfectly shaped dumplings, chewy yummy dough, and rich, gorgeous broth.
“You’re still thinking about my dumplings, aren’t you?” she asked.
I grinned. “Caught. You make it sound so sordid.”
“I make it sound so lonely. Get your ass on the train—you can be at Grand Central in ninety minutes.”
“I’ve still got lunch service. Get your ass on the train—you can be in Poughkeepsie in the same amount of time.”
She hooted. “Yeah, but then I’m in the sticks. What the hell am I supposed to do there?”
Natalie suffered from the Manhattan belief that nothing worth doing existed off her island. Normally I’d immediately join in, agreeing with city good, country bad. But . . .
“The sticks? Not so bad.” Hello, what’s this?
“Sticks schmicks. That doesn’t explain why I’m enjoying a delicious dumpling crawl, and you’ve still not told me why you haven’t come in to the city to play.”
“I’ve been . . . busy.” I felt terrible about not being honest with her, but how could I, when I wasn’t fully being honest with myself? I had a day off here and there, and where had I been spending it? Under and over someone dreamy.
“I’m just busting your chops; I know the diner must be exhausting. But I miss you, Rox! What’s happening? Lay it on me.”
“Now’s not really a great time,” I said, seeing more and more customers filing in. It was going to get real busy real quick.
The town always had an influx of visitors for the holiday weekends. The New Yorkers who didn’t hit the Hamptons escaped to the mountains for a hint of the country life. All the businesses were swamped; Leo said the tours around the farm were booked solid for days. Not for the first time, I wondered when I’d get to see him next. We’d talked about watching tonight’s fireworks together, but—
“Did you just dreamy sigh?” Natalie asked, her tone teasing.
“What?” I thought back a few seconds and realized that yes, I’d thought about Leo and sighed. Dammit, now I’m swooning.
“You never dreamy sigh—ever! Tell me right now what’s happening!”
Oh shit. “It’s not just the diner . . . I met someone when I got here. We’re Summerly Involved.”
“Summerly Involved? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve got someone I’m seeing. For the summer. And . . . well . . .”
She gasped. “And . . . well? You never and . . . well. It’s condom on, condom off, wahoo, back to work. Don’t tell me Miss No Fuss, No Muss is falling in—”