Echoes of the Heart, Casey, L.A. [reader novel .txt] 📗

that had customers. They were all middle-aged couples and didn’t appear to see what the big fuss was over two ridiculously attractive men.

“We’re lost on who they could be,” one man said. “Are they famous?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “They’re in a rock band.”

“Ooohh.” The man’s wife grinned. “They’re lookers, too.”

I chuckled. “That they are . . . can I get you both anything else?”

“The bill, please,” the man answered. “We’re finished.”

“No problem.”

I went to the till, checked the couple’s booth out, grabbed their receipt and brought it to them.

“When you’re ready, just come to the till and pay your bill. No rush.”

I kept my eyes averted from booth one where Hannah was still talking with Risk and Angel. I knew what Hannah sounded like when she was flirting and she was hardcore flirting with both guys. More Risk than Angel and that hit me in the gut. She knew he and I once dated, but maybe because it had been so long ago she just didn’t care. I mean, we were co-workers, not really friends, so I guess she didn’t have a girl code to uphold with me.

I turned my attention to my inventory list and reread it nine times before Joe called booth one’s order. Hannah didn’t move away from Risk’s booth to get the order so, with a sigh, I did it since it was my booth to wait on. I grabbed the plates and sides and put them on a tray then crossed the room to stand behind Hannah-bloody-Porter.

“Excuse me, Hannah.”

She jumped, obviously startled by me.

“Oh! Hi, Frankie.”

She stepped aside as I placed the correct plates in front of each man.

“Enjoy. If you guys need anything, give me a shout. Or just ask Hannah since she’s already here.”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed slightly and I knew it was because she heard the slight sneer in my tone. Before I could turn and walk away, she touched my forearm and said, “Wait, Frankie. Have you caught up with Risk? You two used to date when you were kids, right?”

“Date?” Risk blinked. “Weren’t we just friends in school, Frankie?”

I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation.

“We did date. That was a very long time ago though,” I said to Hannah, lifting my chin. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I turned and walked back over to the counter to my inventory list and tried to focus even though I felt sick to my stomach. Risk didn’t agree that I was once his girlfriend, he referred to me as a school friend. He didn’t even look at Hannah when she mentioned we dated, he only stared at me as if daring me to say someone as good as him had dated someone as basic as me. I didn’t know what was happening but this kind of interaction with him wasn’t something I expected.

I stayed across the room, doing inventory and checking booths out when people paid their bills. I noticed Hannah eventually leaving the table when Joe came out and got her so the men could eat in peace. They ate quickly, in less than twenty minutes. When Risk raised his hand and beckoned me over with his finger, my gut twisted. Part of me wanted to stick my finger up at him for addressing me in such a way, but I didn’t.

I walked over to the table calmly.

“Anything else I can get you guys?”

“No, thank you. I’m full. It was delicious.”

I smiled at Angel. “Happy to hear it.”

“Frankie.”

My body was weak for him whenever he said my name. Whenever he uttered the word, it was like I was the only woman in existence. It was distracting and embarrassing and if he ever found out, I’d likely drop dead.

“Yes?”

“Hannah reminded me about us dating, I remember now. It got me thinking. I was just telling Angel here about our first date right here in this booth . . . how long ago was that? Nine years? Ten?”

I hated that it hurt my feelings because he couldn’t remember when we went on our first date, or that Hannah had to remind him about our relationship in the first place.

“We were fifteen,” I shifted my stance. “So twelve years ago.”

“Twelve years.” Risk whistled. “A hell of a lot has changed since then.” He glanced at my uniform, grimaced, then looked up to my face. “Well, for me it has.”

I felt my face drop when he finished speaking. Judgment for working in the same job all my life was not something I ever, in a million years, expected from Risk. He looked at me like I was . . . nothing.

“Good seeing you again, Frankie,” he stood up from the booth, making me take a couple of steps back. “Great service, you’ve got this waitress thing on lock. Have a good one.”

He didn’t look at me as he stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out a wad of notes, and dropped them on my notepad like he was handing a homeless person money. My mouth dropped open, not because the notes he gave me were fifty-pound notes, but because I had never felt so disrespected by a person in my entire life. I never expected that disrespect to come from Risk.

It hurt me deeply.

“Thank you, Frankie,” Angel said after Risk walked on out of the diner. “Uh, it was lovely to meet you.”

He turned and nearly jogged to catch up with Risk, who was already outside. For a moment, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t believe the person who had treated me so horribly was Risk. My Risk. I was flabbergasted but only for a moment because hurt quickly dissolved into anger and before I knew it I had his tip clenched in my hand and was out of the diner, rushing after the two men quicker than a hiccup.

“Risk!”

He paused mid-stride as he and Angel neared a flashy sports car.

“No autographs, Frankie,” he said. “Sorry.”

I nearly tripped over my feet with shock.

“Autographs?” I sputtered. “Are you joking me? I don’t want your bloody autograph, Risk Keller.”

He looked at Angel, who was looking at the ground,