Pie.
It was an uncontrollable force that brought my eyes back to his. His lips twitched slightly as he cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. God, there was something about this man. He was familiar yet he was foreign. I took a minute to take in his features. He had a strong jaw lined with the slightest hint of black and silver scruff. His lips weren’t thin but not quite full, just right and perfectly in tune with the rest of him. His nose was somewhat crooked—probably broke it once or twice and never had it set properly. There were lines at the corners of his eyes and something told me they weren’t from laughter. His dark hair, almost as black as his eyes, had some traces of gray scattered through it. He didn’t appear old, but rather a man who had lived and lived hard.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and shook my head when I realized I had been staring at him for quite some time. I went from barely glancing at him to ogling him.
“What’re you sorry for, sweetheart?” His voice sounded hoarse.
“Pie,” I paused, glancing over my shoulder at the desserts that lined the shelf. “We don’t have cherry pie.” I turned and dropped my gaze back to my pad.
“Then I’ll take whatever you have to give,” he said, in a tone I couldn’t describe but one that had me lifting my head again.
“The blueberry is fresh,” I mumbled.
“I’ll take it,” he responded instantly.
I nodded and turned around to grab the man a slice of pie. I placed the plate in front of him and reached over to the seat beside him and took the silverware off the placemat. I handed him the fork and his fingers brushed mine as he took it. My body stirred and vibrated at the slight touch and I snatched my hand back.
“Enjoy,” I mumbled, grabbing the rag from beneath the counter to wipe the surface clean to busy myself.
“Name’s Jack,” he offered, breaking off a corner of his pie and stabbing it with his fork.
I didn’t ask his name, and I wasn’t willing to share mine with him.
“Reina,” I responded, defying myself.
“Reina,” he repeated, as he brought his fork to his mouth and took a bite. As he chewed his eyes met mine. At least he was well-mannered enough not to talk with his mouth full. I hated that. I watched his throat as he swallowed. “Pretty name.”
“Thank you,” I said nervously. “Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked, as he dug into the pie for another bite. His hand paused, and he dropped his fork piercing me with a look.
“You want to get rid of me?”
I felt my cheeks heat and I shook my head quickly. “No, please, I’m sorry.”
“Five weeks,” he clipped.
“Excuse me?” I questioned, swallowing hard
“Five weeks I’ve been coming in here and tonight is the first time you actually looked at me.”
“I…”
“Five weeks and just finding out now your eyes are brown,” he interrupted. “I’m not a real patient man, Reina. That’s a long fucking time to realize that the girl who pours me a cup of coffee almost every night has sad brown eyes.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I pursed my lips together. I knew he could see through me. I felt it down in my bones and he had just confirmed it.
“Pretty girl like you should smile once in a while,” he added.
“I don’t have a reason to smile,” I replied quickly, delivering the only truth I knew.
“Pity,” he said. “Almost makes me want to give you one.”
“Jack,” I said, his name sounding strange coming from my mouth.
“What’re you hiding from, Reina?” He pushed.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said, feeling every bit defensive.
“No, I suppose it’s not,” he whispered. His gaze lingering on me for a moment before he picked up his fork again and quietly ate his pie.
I cleaned the counter.
Then cleaned it again.
A couple came in and I handed them their menus.
I kept my head down and hid from them. They didn’t care. They didn’t even grant me a second glance but the man behind me, sitting at the counter, his eyes never left me.
Jack.
Familiar and foreign.
I gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and with the other I slapped my hip, hoping to kill the tingling sensation at my side before my leg went numb. It happened now and then, the pins and needles that traveled from my hip down to my thigh. It was more irritating than it was uncomfortable but it was something I’d learned to live with.
It was all that was left, the only thing that reminded me of a time when I used to smile. But it also reminded me I’d never smile again.
I sighed and pushed myself, trying to hide my limp as I regained feeling in my leg. I grabbed the coffee pot and turned around to refill his mug, but he was gone. His plate was empty and a fifty-dollar bill was tucked neatly underneath it. I lifted my head and peered out the window as he revved the engine of his motorcycle and peeled out of the lot.
He’d be back.
Tomorrow night.