“He’s treating you good?” her mom asked.
“Yes.”
“All right, I’ll phone the diner in case you're late and you stay put. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” her mum said.
Laura agreed and hung up. “My parents worry.”
“They should. All parents worry about their children.”
“Do you have any children?” she questioned without thinking.
She saw the immediate change in him, the darkening of his eyes, and he no longer wore a smile. His hands gripped his cup tighter. The light and energy seemed to be sucked out of the room.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t ask personal questions.” She sipped from her cup and placed it back onto the table. “I’d better go.” She got up and grabbed her bag.
“There’s no need for you to leave. Stay. I’m sorry. It’s still too hard for me.” He stopped and glanced down at the floor.
She sat back down and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Talk about conversation killers.
“I only heard what my parents told me. I didn’t think.” Now she was babbling.
“The rumours can only be expected. So, what do you study at college?” he asked.
She heard instantly how quickly he changed the subject. Her heart mourned for his loss.
“Umm, English, I think. At least most of my classes are in that basic area.” Laura loved to read and one day she hoped to be a writer. Not for political reasons or anything like that. She loved reading romance and figured that would be the area in which she would write. A cliché career choice, but she was a firm believer in following her dreams.
“I love English. Are you thinking of becoming a teacher? An editor of some kind?” he asked.
Laura couldn’t believe how interested he sounded. Feeling stupid at her dreams, she shrugged her shoulders and went with the neutral ground.
“I don’t know. Picking a career choice that will last my whole lifetime seems a little hard.”
You liar!
“Really? I thought you’d have a career in mind by now. Throughout college I knew exactly what I wanted to become,” he said.
Laura leaned forward on her seat. “What did you want to become?”
“A writer.”
Her heart pounded. This was too big of a coincidence. She should be in her own romance novel. The man of her dreams wanted the same profession she did. How was that possible?
“So what are you?” she asked as her curiosity peaked.
Dean smiled and drank more of his coffee. The suspense was killing her.
“Tell me what you want to be,” he said instead.
“How do you know I want to be anything?” she countered.
“A hunch.”
Laura stared at the floor and thought over her decision. Dean would be the first person she’d told of what she wanted to be.
“All right, don’t laugh. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She rubbed her hands over her thighs. “I want to be a writer.” The admission felt fantastic, like she’d just released a deep dark secret.
Dean didn’t laugh. He smiled. “Did that feel good?” he asked.
Laura nodded. Telling someone about her dreams helped. “Yes. How did you know?”
Dean placed his cup on the table and leaned forward. He pressed his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees.
“When I told my family and friends that I wanted to be an author, they all laughed. They said it was a pu**y profession and that I didn’t have what it took to write good stories.”
“What did you do?” Laura asked.
“I proved them all wrong.”
Silence met his answer.
He had the most amazing blue eyes she’d ever seen, like the depths of the ocean. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.
“Are you telling me you’re a writer?” Her heart rate picked up. Not only because of being the love of her life, but also because of his admission.
“I’m a writer,” he confirmed.
“Of what? How long have you been writing? Is it amazing?” So many questions ran riot through her head.
He laughed and took her cup from the table.
“I write novels in the more risqué category and let's just say that I’m doing quite well for myself," he answered. "It looks like the storm has died down. Do you need a lift into town?”
Their conversation was getting along great and Mother Nature decided to put a halt to it.
“If you don’t mind?” she responded. She grabbed her bags and followed him out of his house.
The drive to town was quiet. Laura had to try to keep her attention away from the hot man sitting next her. In no time at all he was pulling up outside the diner. She groaned when she saw how busy it was.
“Are you serious about becoming a writer?” he asked as she reached for the door handle.
“Yes. It’s my dream.”
“Okay. Stop by my house. I’ll clear it with your parents and we’ll work on your technique. I take it you have some stories you’ve already written?” he asked.
“Short ones, and they’re really badly printed.”
“Bring them. I’ll give them a read. Be aware though, I 've never done this and you’ve got to be prepared to learn,” he warned.
“I will. I promise. Thank you for the ride and everything.” She got out of the car and watched as he drove off before entering the crowded diner.
On entering she saw that Peter and his gang were already seated in her work area. Great, she thought. Another afternoon with having to be kind. Laura walked into the back and changed into her uniform. Kasey, another waitress who was about two years older, was putting on her make-up.
“You made it then?” she asked.
Laura nodded. She tied her hair into a ponytail and took a fresh menu pad off the pile. “Yes. Dean Riley gave me a lift into work.”
“He’s got a cute ass,” Kasey commented.
She ignored Kasey and grabbed a coffee pot on the way out. Several customers needed refills. Orders were taken from a few others. With every second the place got rowdier.
A child spilled shake all over her uniform and another splattered tomato sauce. By the time she made it over to Peter and his gang she looked a wreck. When she reached their table she stared down at her notebook, mentally squaring her shoulders for the tease and taunts that were about to happen.
“What can I get you?” she asked. Avoiding eye contact usually worked.
“Wow, you look a mess,” Russell, one of Peter's cronies remarked..