“Wait. Just to be sure,” she leaned back in her chair, “you mean to tell me that you were never pregnant by Matt Sterling? I never had a grandchild on the way?”
How many times is she going to ask me this?
“No mom. For the umpteenth time, I told you I was wearing a prosthetic baby bump.”
She snorted. “I knew that! I just wanted you to say it again because it cracks me up! I still can’t believe you did that!”
I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen.
From the windows, I saw that “that customer” was the sexy stranger guy, but today he was dressed in a well-tailored black suit. He was looking towards the kitchen doors and smiling.
Can he see me?
I ducked down and moved to the other side of the room. I didn’t want him to see me like this.
My hair was tragic. It was in a lifeless ponytail and there were bits of flour in it. My shirt had coffee stains and crumbs on it, proof of my poor attempt to slice pie and pour coffee at the same time.
I looked at the employee schedule and saw that the next waitress wasn’t scheduled to come in for another hour. I decided to wait in the back for a while, hoping she would show up extremely early.
She didn’t.
I took a deep breath and walked out to his table, trying my best not to stare at him.
“Welcome to Sweet Seasons. What can I get for you today?”
“I’ll have the heritage coffee, preferably in a cup,” he smiled and I couldn’t help but blush.
I still couldn’t figure out why he affected me, why the mere sight of him made me feel like a teenage girl with a high school crush. I didn’t even know his name, but every time he came in my heart sped up and I became nervous, so nervous that I went out of my way to avoid him.
“Selena Ross, right?” he said as I filled his cup.
“Well, what do you know? You are the only person here that actually recognized me. You want anything else?”
“What made you come here? Are you researching the waitress-life for a new movie?”
He can’t be serious…
“Don’t you read the news?”
“I don’t consider celebrity life news,” he looked into my eyes and I nearly lost it. “Plus, I don’t believe everything I read. I like to ask the direct source.”
So he IS serious…
“Well, since you’ve clearly been hiding under a rock, I’m here to get away, to disconnect myself from the world for a while,” I handed him a couple napkins. “It’s called being reserved.”
I suddenly remembered that I needed to beg Joan to re-install the internet on my dinosaur phone. She’d canceled it two days ago when she caught me googling myself.
“You don’t want to sit down?” he smiled.
No man should be allowed to be that attractive…It’s not even fair…
“Um, I should probably attend to the other customers.”
“What other customers?”
I looked over my shoulder: No one else was there. No one else had been there all day…
“Okay, but only for two minutes.”
“That’s fine,” he took a sip of his coffee. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look a lot better in person than you do on TV.”
“So you have seen some of my work before?”
“A couple of episodes. My intern—I mean, my internet. I saw a couple of them on the internet the other day after I looked up ‘all the magazine covers’…What are you doing Saturday night?”
“Straight to the point, are we?” I tried not to smile.
“I’m not good at small talk.”
“Well, I’ll be working all day.”
“Would you like to go out with me whenever you get off?” his eyes brightened. “Dinner?”
YES! Wait…no….Could I date a normal guy? A non-celebrity? Perhaps… A guy from Fayetteville? I don’t think so…
“I can’t.”
“Are you seeing someone? I’m sorry I didn’t ask that first.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s—”
“Then I insist.”
My heart fluttered at the way he said “insist” and I almost said “Pick me up at nine,” but I came to my senses in seconds.
“Look, you’re really attractive—really really attractive,” I could feel my cheeks reddening, “and you seem like a nice guy but...I don’t think you’re my type.”
“Oh really? What’s your type?”
Someone who can afford me…
“Someone…with a high profile career…”
He burst into laughter. “You mean someone with money? I never knew Selena Ross was a gold-digger.”
“Apparently you didn’t know who I was at all,” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, that’s not exactly what I meant. I meant…Yes, someone who can afford me. He doesn’t have to be rich or over the top wealthy…just established.”
He took another sip of his coffee and smirked. “What makes you think I’m not established?”
I didn’t answer. I just stared.
“Great answer. Are you implying that I would have to pay you to go on a date with me?”
I sighed. “I’m saying that even if you could afford to take me out, you would probably—”
“How much?”
“What?”
“If I was at a charity function and a night with you was up for bid, how much do you think it would go for?”