She’d called as I was taking a break between the breakfast and lunch rush, and I was eager to get caught up with her. I slid into the corner behind the unused coat rack for privacy, balancing the phone between my shoulder and my ear. The diner had been busier than usual, the lull between breakfast and lunch getting shorter each day.
We always closed early on the Fourth of July and stayed closed on the fifth, a minibreak for the staff. I was eagerly looking forward to putting my feet up and relaxing. Or perhaps putting my feet up, and around, a certain green-eyed gorgeous. Mmm. But back to Natalie . . .
“Ass, I could have died. Death by pot sticker!”
“Natalie! You’re at House of Wong without me? I’m the one who should be saying ass, ass! You know those are my favorite pot stickers—how could you tease me like that! I’m so jealous.”
“Girl, please—you’ve been in Bailey Falls for how many weeks, and you haven’t once popped into the city. I don’t feel bad about this at all. Hear that?” Cue slurping. She didn’t. She wouldn’t.
“Are you having their soup dumplings?”
Slurp. Slurp, slurp. “I’m sick of waiting for you to get your cute little ass down here. What the hell is going on up there?”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I groaned, imagining the bamboo steamer filled with perfectly shaped dumplings, chewy yummy dough, and rich, gorgeous broth.
“You’re still thinking about my dumplings, aren’t you?” she asked.
I grinned. “Caught. You make it sound so sordid.”
“I make it sound so lonely. Get your ass on the train—you can be at Grand Central in ninety minutes.”
“I’ve still got lunch service. Get your ass on the train—you can be in Poughkeepsie in the same amount of time.”
She hooted. “Yeah, but then I’m in the sticks. What the hell am I supposed to do there?”
Natalie suffered from the Manhattan belief that nothing worth doing existed off her island. Normally I’d immediately join in, agreeing with city good, country bad. But . . .
“The sticks? Not so bad.” Hello, what’s this?
“Sticks schmicks. That doesn’t explain why I’m enjoying a delicious dumpling crawl, and you’ve still not told me why you haven’t come in to the city to play.”
“I’ve been . . . busy.” I felt terrible about not being honest with her, but how could I, when I wasn’t fully being honest with myself? I had a day off here and there, and where had I been spending it? Under and over someone dreamy.
“I’m just busting your chops; I know the diner must be exhausting. But I miss you, Rox! What’s happening? Lay it on me.”
“Now’s not really a great time,” I said, seeing more and more customers filing in. It was going to get real busy real quick.
The town always had an influx of visitors for the holiday weekends. The New Yorkers who didn’t hit the Hamptons escaped to the mountains for a hint of the country life. All the businesses were swamped; Leo said the tours around the farm were booked solid for days. Not for the first time, I wondered when I’d get to see him next. We’d talked about watching tonight’s fireworks together, but—
“Did you just dreamy sigh?” Natalie asked, her tone teasing.
“What?” I thought back a few seconds and realized that yes, I’d thought about Leo and sighed. Dammit, now I’m swooning.
“You never dreamy sigh—ever! Tell me right now what’s happening!”
Oh shit. “It’s not just the diner . . . I met someone when I got here. We’re Summerly Involved.”
“Summerly Involved? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve got someone I’m seeing. For the summer. And . . . well . . .”
She gasped. “And . . . well? You never and . . . well. It’s condom on, condom off, wahoo, back to work. Don’t tell me Miss No Fuss, No Muss is falling in—”
“Shah-ha-hut-it! Shut it right now. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“What’s he putting in your mouth?”
I hid my face in my hands. “Oh boy.”
“I can tell you what I’m putting in my mouth. A entire plate of soup dumplings. Grab your summer love, get thee on a train, and get your ass here!”
“He can’t really leave during the summer; he’s a . . . well . . . he’s a . . .” I cupped my hand around my phone and quietly said, “farmer.”