Page 5 of Needing His Touch
“Gramps, let her be,” Gabe interjects.
“Oh hush, I can worry about whoever the heck I want.” Bernie’s word must be law because Gabe sits there quietly while taking a sip of his coffee.
“I’m alright, promise. Denny and Nikki would send me home if I weren’t.” Now that my hands aren’t full, I’m able to reach my hand out to Bernie’s and squeeze it gently with mine.
“That’s good,” Bernie replies, and I pull back, digging into my apron for my pad of paper in case Gabe’s order is too much to remember.
“What can I get for you?” I can feel the heat of Gabe’s gaze branding my body, which makes me wonder what he sees. I’m not dressed in anything special, a black shirt with the diner’s name in yellow print and a pair of jeans I’ve had for far too long. The knees have holes in them; and not in the trendy sort of way, but in the way I’ve refused to buy anything new unless it’s an absolute necessity. My sneakers are dirty from lots of grime. Even my hair is up in a ponytail, and I don’t have a lick of makeup, not that I’d allow myself to pick up anything extra right now. I’m still too busy trying to pad my savings account and worry that I’ll never be able to get ahead. The need to live debt-free and not paycheck to paycheck comes from my childhood trauma. I also know one day, I’m going to have to figure out a long-term plan. Being a waitress is an honest job, but a career it won’t be, not in the forever kind of way.
“I’ll have the same as Gramps, but fried eggs and breakfast potatoes.” Bernie gets two waffles, two eggs over easy, bacon, and hashbrowns. A small variation and easy to remember, there’s no need to use my guest pad.
“Sounds good. Anything else to drink besides coffee?” I look at both guys. It’s hit or miss with Bernie.
“No juice for me today, Carsynn. Thank you, though,” Bernie says, grabbing the utensils we keep on the table, unwrapping the napkin, and setting his utensils on top.
“None for me either, thanks,” the younger of the two says, though he’s still much older than me.
“You’ve got it. I’ll put your orders in and get it out shortly.” I grab the pot of coffee I had set on the table and make my way back to the counter. Denny and Nikki were smart; the commercial-grade countertops and tabletops throughout the diner can take the heat of the piping-hot coffee. There’s no need to set anything beneath, and it sure helps not to have to hold the pot or make an extra stop between tables. I weave in and out of the tables, stopping to say hello to Olive’s customers, and make sure no one needs anything since she’s behind the bar, an area we both split when it comes to tickets. Teamwork makes the dream work and all that jazz. It was an oddity when I first came to work here, but Olive showed me the ropes, being her super friendly and bubbly self. I had absolutely no idea what to think, but it was like she had two heads after coming from my last job.
“I see you survived. I probably should have warned you. Gabe McCoy is larger than life, a hometown legend, one of the good guys, and one of the hottest eligible bachelors in Plaine Hill. The best part is he’s humble, gives back, and will do anything for Bernie.” Olive comes up beside me while I’m putting the McCoys’ order in. Everything is pen and paper, minus the register, which relays the orders to Denny. We have a credit card machine, but it barely gets used. For the most part, people like to use cash.
“I kind of assumed, seeing how great Bernie is. You also never know.” I shrug my shoulders, attempting to keep my eyes on the machine instead of Gabe McCoy. The man who made my thighs clench, my heart rate soar, and my cheeks redden.
“Girl, you can act unaffected all you want, but with a man like that, if he were looking at me like he is at you, well, I’d be shooting my shot.” Olive wiggles her eyebrows. “In fact, he’s looking at you right now. He has the entire time since he walked into the diner. Are you sure you’ve never seen him before?” What is she talking about? I thought it was me staring at him the entire time, not the other way around. Surely, Olive has this all wrong. I mean Gabe McCoy looking at me. Maybe she’s seeing things. My eyes sweep the length of the diner, sneaking a glance at him without being too obvious. It’s hard not to be fascinated by him, the way he carries himself, not slouching even though he’s got to be close to six and a half feet tall. He’s built, has broad shoulders, muscular arms, which are probably bigger than my thighs, and thick corded forearms, and I haven’t even mentioned his tapered waist or his ass. My virgin self thought all about the way he’d potentially spread my legs with his thick thighs. How he’d stretch me to the max in all sorts of delicious ways and leave me feeling his presence for days after.
“You’re wrong. There’s no way.” I drop my eyes back to the register. Surely, my cheeks are showing my blush yet again. I shouldn’t be looking at anything more than his face, but he's impressive from the top of his light brown hair, dimpled cheek, eyelashes a woman would kill for, down to the impressive package I saw bulging with each slow-gaited movement.
“Girl, he is eating you up.” This time when I sneak another look at Gabe, our eyes lock, and when he gives me the slightest tilt of his lips, I realize maybe Olive is right. That brings a whole other host of worries to navigate. Jesus, this being an adult and allowing yourself to live is not for the faint of heart.
6
GABE
“Itold you she was a looker, and that’s not all either.” I’ve been waiting on the old man to give me hell. The sad part is, Gramps isn’t wrong. My cock stood up and took notice when I walked into the diner. That was before I heard her voice or saw the full package of Carsynn. Grandpa bided his time while we ate, humming here and there, making conversation all while my eyes were glued to her. She’s tiny, much smaller than my frame. Hell, my two hands can probably wrap around her waist so far that my fingertips meet. Olive complexion to my fairer skin, dark hair with natural highlights wrapped up in a tight ponytail. My hands were itching to take hold of the hair tie holding it up and watching as her light waves fell down her body.
I remain quiet as we pull into the parking lot of the shop. Gramps chooses that moment to keep on at it. “Not gonna admit it, huh? That’s the problem with men today. They don’t know how good they have it until it’s gone. Men in my day went after the woman who made their heart beat faster. Mark my words, you’ll figure it out sooner or later. Either that, or I’ll set sweet little Carsynn up with the deputy. Maybe that will light a fire under your slow ass. She’s been here for nearly a month. It’s about time Carsynn goes on a date. Apart from the diner, my place, the library, and the grocery store, all she does is stay home.” Gramps tries to get out of the truck, but I hit the button to lock him inside for a few minutes. There are a few things I need to get off my chest.
“You gonna breathe a minute and let me talk?” I’m holding back my smile, knowing he’s going to put me in my place the second I let him out. Which is why I keep my finger pressed on the lock button. Payback is gonna be a bitch. It’ll be worth it, though.
“If you pull the stick out of your ass and admit I was right all along.” Gramps crosses his arms over his chest and looks me dead in the eye. One thing I can guarantee is Gramps isn’t setting up the sweet and tempting little morsel with anyone, especially not the deputy. She’s fucking mine. I may not have set my eyes on her first compared to the other fuckers in this town, but I am now.
“You were right. None of that shit about her being with Deputy Carter or anyone else. Also, I’m doing this on Carsynn’s timeline, not mine and not yours. Judging from the stories you’ve told me and the skittish looks I got today at the diner, she needs to know I’m not going anywhere.” My damn track record for being out of town for three weeks sure as shit isn’t helping. My finger comes off the lock button.
“Good, I knew you’d see it my way. I just had to light a little fire under your stubborn ass.” He doesn’t have a poker face to save his life. The shit-eating grin is spread far and wide. The old man is proud as fuck of himself.
“Yeah, I hear you. Don’t start becoming Cupid. Carter doesn’t need you playing matchmaker.” No one knows this, but my buddy, Carter, has his own woman no one knows about. He’s somehow managed to keep it under wraps. No one in town knows. How he’s been able to keep things a secret with the town librarian, I have no idea. Kudos to him, though. It’s bad enough everyone knows everyone in Plaine Hill. They’d go rabid, nit-picking the shit out of their relationship, or they’d start knitting booties for a child neither of them have announced.
“Boyo, you think I’m dumb. I was waiting for you to come out with it. Carter is with Marybeth.” I don’t confirm or deny it. It’s a story that isn’t mine to tell. “Yeah, I knew you’d be tight-lipped. Word of advice, tell him to stop walking out of the library with a goofy-ass grin, otherwise, the cat will be out of the bag faster than they’d like.” I swear my grandfather is worse than some of the women in this town. The only difference is he doesn’t gossip. Nope, Grandpa Bernie prefers to sit back and people watch, always has, and since Grams and Mom are gone, he does it even more.
“I’ll let him know.”
“You do that. It was her eyes, wasn’t it?” Gramps asks quietly. I look at him. He nods, and I know who he’s talking about. Carsynn with her amber-colored eyes, solidly golden in color.
“Yeah.” I’ve never seen a single person in Plaine Hill or anywhere in my travels with her rare eye color, black lashes surrounding them. I was fucking sunk. Carsynn with her full lips that made me want to run my tongue along the seam, see how they’d look wrapped around my thumb, and damn if I didn’t want to see what they’d look like during and after she sucked my cock. And it didn’t stop there. My eyes drank her all the way in. Her shirt was loose but not too loose so I couldn’t see the size of her tits. My palms itched to find out how they’d look and feel in the palms of my hands, on her hips that flared out and lean legs that had my dick standing at its full attention. Her eyes, though, they were deep and soulful, held secrets and heartache, and I wanted to slay her dragons one by fucking one.
“I’m heading in. I’ll give you a few minutes to get your head on straight. I can still remember the day I met your grandmother. I told her I was going to marry her one day. She didn’t believe me, made me work for her attention. Knocking on her dad’s door was the scariest damn thing of my life. It was all worth it.” I’ve heard the story a thousand times, and I’ll hear it a thousand more. Some might get annoyed or tired of it. Not me. It’s a memory I want to hand down to my children one day, reminiscing about the days I sat on the floor as a kid, listening to all the stories, Grams doing needlepoint while Gramps talked. She’d interject when the story wasn’t told right, they’d get into a spat, and we’d all laugh. Mom included.
“Appreciate it. I won’t be too long.” Gramps grabs the door handle. Now that I’ve got my finger off the lock button, it opens easily. He uses the oh-shit handle to swing his legs out first. The years are getting harder on his body. The bigger truck he used to drive has been downgraded to something a bit smaller yet still works for his long legs. I made sure of it when we went to the car dealership, and it wasn’t me who persuaded him either. He called me and told me to take a ride with him. Gramps drove, and I listened to what he had to say even when I stated a hip replacement would put most of his problems to bed. An old fall from his escapades of being on a ladder without anyone there to watch over him. It’s something the doctors say eventually he’ll need to have surgery for. He wouldn’t hear of it. He was done with hospitals, only went to his doctors because I scheduled his appointment, and if he didn’t show up, I was notified right away.