Hesitating briefly, she moved to a booth near one of the large windows and sat in the sunlight. It glinted off her hair, showing the deep reds and golds hidden in the dark depths. The light played across her face, warming the pale tones and making her skin nearly translucent. It lit up her eyes, making the green a bottomless pool of color. When she realized he was staring, she glanced away. “Let me be honest, okay? I have no idea why you wanted to take me to lunch. Maybe you’re trying to assuage the guilt you’re harboring over Saturday night or Sunday’s words. Maybe you’re trying to reestablish yourself as a nice guy. Maybe—”
“Enough,” he said, quiet but firm as he slid into the booth across from her. “Stop it, Grace.”
“Pardon me?”
“You heard me. Cut it out.” He reached for a menu and slid it in front of her, fighting the urge to hunch his shoulders. She’d read him as easily as a freaking book. “I wanted to have lunch with you. You agreed to have lunch with me. That’s enough.” For now. “And while I might not be wining and dining you at the five-star level, the food’s excellent all the same.”
She frowned. “And the company?”
Eyeing the dessert case, his lips twitched before a sheepish grin spread across his face. “Actually, the worst thing on the menu might be better than the rancid company.”
Her laughter rang out. “Duly noted.”
The sound of her laughter whipped through him like a warm Chinook wind. He wanted to hear it again, would do almost anything to hear it again.
One of the waitresses walked by and winked at him, tilting her head toward Grace. That’s when it hit him. Bringing Grace to the diner was tantamount to inviting her to dinner with his whole family, not just exposing her to his mother. The employees of the Broad Street Diner had been his family for more than fifteen years. They’d stepped in to rally round his mom and sisters after his dad had been killed. The waitresses had created babysitting schedules to watch his sisters when Justin had been so wrapped up in his own misery he’d been no help to his mom whatsoever. They’d pitched in to give the kids Christmas and birthday gifts. They’d donated extra shifts to simply help his mom make ends meet when they were all just as strapped as the Maxwell family was.
Familiar guilt at the choices he’d made long ago prickled along his nape. He hadn’t been the best kid. Moments like this, moments when the past snuck up and surprised him, pissed him off. He’d paid for his self-centered behavior, rash decisions and darkest moments. Man, had he paid for it. No sense letting it crowd in on him now. He rubbed the tattoo that circled his left biceps, recalling the bite of the needle.
“Justin?”
His head snapped up.
“Your arm bugging you?”
“What? Oh. No. It’s fine.” He glanced over her head to find his mom chatting with a customer at the counter. He whistled softly.
She lifted her soft brown eyes from her customer. Those eyes wrinkled with her automatic smile and struck Justin silent. The soft depth of the crow’s feet was new. Or was it? Had he just not noticed? When had she started to show her age?
“Justin!”
“Hey, Mom.” The weight of Grace’s wide-eyed stare slammed into him. Glancing over at her, one corner of his mouth kicked up. “Did I forget to mention my mom works here?”
* * *