The Village Diner was the most popular hangout for Hall High students and homage to the American teenager. There was a very good possibility that the place had been there since the beginning of time. No joke and it showed. But that was all part of its appeal.
She barely noticed the chill in the November air, not when her entire body was humming. Unable to take her eyes off him, she noticed how he moved with such a carefree ease. A good foot taller than her, she felt so small beside him, and safe. He made her feel like nothing in the world would hurt her.
Holding the door open, her pattering heart sighed. The only guy who ever made such a gesture had been her dad. It would take a lot more than being a gentleman to get her dad’s approval.
Taking a booth in the corner, she couldn’t help but notice that all eyes were on them, and the lively chatter had died.
Oookay. That was strange.
A very plain and round woman greeted them dryly. “What can I get you?” she asked, pulling a pen out of her messy bun. Her crooked nametag read Betsy. Well Betsy was dull and surly.
Travis didn’t seem to notice. “You have got to try the peach cobbler, best in the state,” he suggested.
“Hmm, that sounds good. I’ll have one of those and coffee also,” she ordered to a frowning Betsy. What was with this place?
“I’ll have the same,” he stated without even looking up. He kept his eyes affixed on her. Totally hot, and probably suited the huffy Betsy who turned on her heels to put the order in.
“She’s not going to spit on our food or something?” Emma asked as soon as Betsy was out of earshot.
Travis laughed. “I don’t think there is much going on up there. Our food should be safe.” But how safe was Emma? He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her face. Such perfect complexion, her cheeks colored from the wind and her eyes bright green like rolling meadows.
Tilting her head, she met his gaze dead-on. “Weird. The last time I was here, I thought everyone was so friendly.”
If she only knew.
Cripes, he could look at her for hours. And then she would think he was a freak. Forcing himself to tear his eyes from hers, he glanced around the room. He didn’t want to scare her off. “So where did you live before moving to Spring Valley?”
She was disappointed when he broke the trance. “Everywhere.”
Burrowing his brows together, he waited for her to elaborate. There was defiantly a story behind that one word, and he didn’t have to wait long.
“My dad’s job is constantly relocating him. I have lived in twelve different states and have been to seven different schools if you can believe that.”
He could hear the sadness and longing just under the surface. The moving around wasn’t something she enjoyed, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. He had lived in Spring Valley his entire life. “What does he do?” he asked, curious.
“The million dollar question. Would you believe that I don’t really have the foggiest idea? It’s very hush-hush. After awhile I stopped asking and just resented the fact that it always took me away from any friends I was finally able to make. I can’t help but hope that Abi doesn’t grow up like that.”
“Abi?” The smile came easily on her lips. He could immediately tell how much she cared for Abi. It showed on every line in her face.
“Oh. Abigail is my little sister. She’s three and such a little monkey.” There was affection in her tone. “I just want her to be able to have a normal life.”
Oh he could relate. He never thought they would have anything in common, looked like he had a lot more to learn about her than what was at the surface. “I feel the same way about Lexi,” he said. Then he realized what he said, she made it easy to drop his guard. He needed to be much more careful for Emma’s own good.
“You do? I think I have an art class with Lexi, but I’ve never really talk to her.”
Luckily Betsy came back with their pies and coffee saving him from having to reply. Loading her coffee with cream, they both reached for the sugar at the same time, and the electric current that went through his system was unexpected.
Clearing his throat, he stirred his coffee. “So how long have you been dancing?” he asked, swiftly changing the topic.
She swallowed a bite of peach cobbler. “Since I could walk,” she replied, waving her fork. A piece of crust flung on the table. “Sorry,” she giggled. “I get a little animated over food. This is really good.”
“Best in the state,” he repeated, grinning. “So you dance at the studio in town?”
“Yep. You should come and watch sometime. I give lessons also afterschool.”
She blew on her steaming mug, and his stomach tightened. Her lips were begging him to kiss them, or so his body was telling him.
Focus, he scolded himself. “Are you implying that I could use a lesson?”
“If the shoe fits…” she teased, loving the light in his sea colored eyes.
“You’re probably right. I could use a few pointers.”