She grabbed more plates, loading up a heavy tray. Thanks to Simon’s hassling, he now had a vivid image of sitting across from her, watching her eat, being served instead of serving. He could picture Paige smiling shyly at him across the table. How the soft glow would reflect off her hair and dance over her cheeks. She was a woman made for candlelight, she was—
“I have a turtle.”
JT angled his head toward the child on the other side of the now-empty seat beside him. The little girl didn’t look up, her tiny hand moving deliberately over a sheet of white paper.
Was she talking to him or just talking? Were kids supposed to talk to strangers?
She slid the paper a few inches toward him and tapped on a green oval. “His name’s Eric. He’s a turtle.”
“Ah.” He raised his brows, nodded, and swallowed the food in his mouth. “Classic turtle name.”
She pulled her paper back in front of her and picked up a blue crayon. “I thought so.”
She had that deep, scratchy kind of little-kid voice that seemed at odds with her white-blond hair hanging in thin, wavy pieces to her shoulders. A butterfly clip thing clung precariously to a few strands near her ear. She swung one foot hard enough to tap the counter in front of her, the other was tucked beneath her short purple skirt.
He glanced around for a supervising adult. She looked really small to be left alone, but what did he know.
The line cook turned, a big grin on his face, and slid the little girl a mountain of fries. “Okay, Miss Casey Bell. Think you can eat a whole plate of Mr. Mac’s fries today?”
“Yep.” She gave a determined nod.
“We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink and chuckle.
“But I need ketchup.”
Mac was already back to his burgers so JT reached for the bottle, holding up a stack of napkins in front of him, and slid it over.
“I can eat a lot,” Casey said to him, flipping open the cap on the bottle.
JT had some doubts, as the mound of fries was as big as her head. She squirted here and there, making a series of ketchup piles until the bottle hit a pocket of air.
She slid him a sideways glance and giggled. She squeezed again and giggled, then grinned up at him again like they were sharing some secret joke, and a smile pulled at his lips. He got a text from work, an update on a trial he had some techs running, and shot back a reply. From the corner of his eye, he caught the girl swimming her fries through the ketchup. Her face resembled the plate, stark white and smeared with red.
Paige brought him a drink refill and laid his ticket beside his plate. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.” Their eyes held for a beat before her attention turned to the child beside him.
“Good?”
“Yep.” She poked three more fries into her mouth and Paige rounded the end of the counter and out of view.
With no real reason to hang around, he grabbed his ticket and moved to the register. A break in the counter divided the checkout on the left from Casey in her seat at the end on his right. He watched her dot ketchup around the edge of her plate before Paige met him and took the ticket he held.
“Everything okay?”
Paige flashed him a bright smile and his gut twisted like it did every time he saw her. “Yeah. Great.”
“It’s twelve even.”
He handed her a twenty, and when she held out his change, their eyes met, and there was such an overwhelming feeling of rightness, the air backed up in his chest. It was true, he wasn’t looking for serious for so many reasons, but he thought of spending time with Paige, listening to her without distractions, drinking in every detail without her rushing around, and suddenly, for the first time in a long time, he felt like taking a leap. “There’s a new Italian place.”
The statement was barely past his lips and he was still formulating his next when the little girl held up her drawing.
“Mommy, look at Eric!”
Mommy? Her gaze swung to the little girl at the end of the counter and so did his. Same creamy skin, same mouth, same blond, blond hair.
He was still staring as she lifted the girl, her daughter, from the stool and held out his change. “Here you go.”
Seconds ticked by with neither of them moving and he had the sinking feeling something was slipping away. Talking to someone over a plate of lasagna was one thing, starting anything with a woman with a child was something else entirely. Especially for him. There were some things you didn’t get a second chance at. Or shouldn’t.
She was still holding out his change while he stood there like an ass. “No, keep it,” he finally said.
She glanced at the large tip in her hand, then back at him, her expression unreadable. “Okay. Thank you.” The she turned and headed for the swinging door behind the counter.
Casey smiled and waved at him over her mom’s shoulder, and he waved back, and that’s when he saw it. Propped on Paige’s hip, her purple skirt spread out and over her knees. But her left leg hadn’t been tucked under her. It ended a few inches below her knee.
Just like his.
—
“Stupid,” Paige muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes at herself. She pushed through the swinging door and into the back of the restaurant. To the right was the kitchen, to the left a good-sized space that served as the employee break room.
Casey leaned back to see her face. “What’s stupid, Mommy?”
“Nothing, sweet pea.” Just that, for a second, she thought he was about to ask her out. And even more stupid that, for a second, she’d wanted him to.