Queen POV
The smell of grease had seeped so far into my clothes, I was starting to think it was permanent. It felt like it began to take root—in my skin, my hair, my soul. By the middle of my shift at the diner, I was convinced if someone cut me open, I'd bleed maple syrup and burnt bacon.
"Queen! Table six needs a refill!"
I didn't even turn around. "They just got one."
"Well now they need another!"
Of course they did.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, grabbing the coffee pot like it had personally offended me and weaving through the tables. The diner buzzed around me-forks scraping, laughter too loud, the low hum of country music from the jukebox, it was starting to die down. Late-night crowd thinning. Which meant less work. And more time for people to get comfortable.
I refilled the cups, nodded through a complaint I didn't care about, and turned toward the counter—And that's when I noticed him. Corner booth. Alone. He didn't belong here. That was my first thought. Not in a dramatic way. Just… wrong setting. Too still in a place that never stopped moving. Cowboy hat tipped low. Dark shirt stretched across broad shoulders, muscles straining against the fabric. One arm draped along the back of the booth like he had nowhere else to be and all the time in the world. Calm. Too calm. And very, very sexy.
My eyes lingered a second too long. As if he could feel my eyes on him, his head tilted just slightly—
I snapped my gaze away so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.
"Girl, who you lookin' at?"
Jessica slid up beside me with a grin, already knowing.
"Nobody," I said quickly, grabbing a stack of napkins that did not need grabbing.
"Mhm." She leaned just enough to peek. "Corner booth?"
I didn't answer.
She laughed. "Oh yeah, he fine."
"I didn't say all that."
"You didn't have to." She nudged me. "Go say something."
"I'm working."
"You been working all night. That don't stop you from talking."
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. "I'm not about to go bother that man while he's eating."
"Uh huh. You just gonna keep sneaking little looks then?"
"I am not—"
"Hey baby girl, you gonna keep ignoring me all night?" There it was. Right on time. I closed my eyes for half a second before turning around.
Manny.
Same booth. Same smug expression. Same two friends laughing like background noise.
"What do you want, Manny?" I asked flatly.
He grinned slow, lazy. "Damn, you don't even say hello no more?"
"I did that the first fifty times. Didn't seem to stick."
His friends laughed.
Manny leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes dragging over me in a way that made my stomach lurch in disgust.
"I want…you."
I didn't even blink. "Not on the menu."
"Ain't gotta be," he said, voice dropping. "I'll make my own order."
I grabbed the coffee pot. "You want coffee or you want me to walk away?"
He tilted his head, studying me. "Why you always act like that? You know you like the attention."
Something hot flared in my chest—but I swallowed it. Because I needed this job. Because I had bills. Because I had a five-year-old at home who needed more than pride.
"Coffee," I repeated, holding the pot steady. "Or I walk."
For a second, neither of us moved. Then he leaned back with a chuckle. "Yeah, a'ight."
I turned to leave—
His fingers brushed against my ass. Light. Quick. Not accidental. My whole body went rigid. I spun around, eyes locking onto his.
"Don't touch me." The table went quiet.
Manny raised his hands like I was overreacting, but something in his expression had shifted. Testing. Pushing.
"Relax," he said. "Ain't nobody tryna hurt you."
"Then keep your freaking hands to yourself."
For a second, I thought he might push it further.
But instead, he leaned back again, smirking. "Feisty, I like it" He slowly dragged his tongue across his lips, looking me up and down. Bile rose in my throat and I quickly swallowed it down.
I turned away before I said something that would cost me my job. Because this wasn't new, just worse. At first it was looks. Then comments. Then "accidental" touches. Now? It felt like he was waiting for the right moment.
I grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter, trying to shake the feeling crawling under my skin. And when I glanced back toward the corner, the cowboy was watching. Not like Manny. Not hungry or lustful. Not entitled. Just… aware. Like he'd seen everything, like he'd heard my thoughts. I looked away first.