Chapter Two

Leo

Every time I've dined at Lucky's, I've always been seated alone. Even if the place is packed, I usually wait until there's a table available for me. A few days ago, when Nicole asked if I'd be open to joining someone, I thought it was odd, but said yes regardless – I don't have time to meet new people with the kind of job I work, so I'll never turn down an opportunity for human connection.

I wasn't expecting to meet someone so sweet. I could tell Shayla's typically shy, but it didn't take much to get her talking. I'm fairly certain she had more to say about that roommate of hers, but I doubt she wanted to throw all of her complaints at someone she just met. As wrong as it is to wish she has more issues with her roommate, I want to see her again.

As luck would have it, two days after our first meeting I spot her brilliant red hair as soon as I walk into Lucky's. She's sitting in a booth alone with her back to me. I can't tell if she has food in front of her or not, but I take my chances and bypass Nicole at the host stand. Hopefully, Shayla will be open to me joining her It meal, even if she's already halfway through it.

"Fancy seeing you here," I say when I stop next to her table. When she looks up at me with wide eyes, I ask, "Is this seat taken?"

"No," she replies, giving me a sincere smile. "It's all yours."

"I hope I'm not intruding," I say, looking at the salad in front of her. She's barely touched it, so it seems like the timing has worked out perfectly.

"You aren't," she assures me. "Spending time with someone friendly would be nice."

"Roommate troubles again?" I guess, opening up the floor for her to vent her troubles if she needs to.

"How'd you know?" she says, the corner of her mouth lifting as her beautiful blue eyes meet mine. My gaze is drawn to the dimple on her cheek. I know she's having a hard time at home right now, but I can't help but admire how absolutely beautiful she is.

"Lucky guess," I say, glancing at our server walking over with my Diet Coke. "Have you ordered anything else?"

"I got the smothered chicken," she replies as my drink hits the table.

"That sounds good," I say to our server. "Can I do that with green beans and a baked potato?"

I wait while she scribbles that down. Then, when she walks away, I turn back to Shayla and ask, "What happened today?"

"Just the usual nonsense," Shayla sighs, pushing a cherry tomato around her bowl. "The apartment is a mess, her crappy music is too loud, and the atmosphere was just bad. I needed to clear my head and have dinner, so I came here."

"What an awful way to live," I tut, wishing there was something I could do to alleviate her troubles. As much as I like seeing her here, there's a slump to her shoulders that no one as young as her should have. Actually… there might be something I can do to help her out. "You know, if you ever need to get away or want a quiet place to decompress, you can come to my house."

Shayla looks up from her salad, a curious expression on her face. Then, after a beat, she says, "I'd like that. I can't remember the last time I had some peace and quiet. It feels like Daisy's always home."

She's so sure of her answer that it throws me for a loop. I was expecting her to need some coaxing or reassurance that the invitation is sincere. Apparently the situation at her place is worse than she's let on.

"Your boyfriend won't mind?" I ask, unsure of why those are the words that come out of my mouth. I guess it's my way of trying to suss out if I should stomp down the attraction I'm feeling for her.

"I don't have a boyfriend," Shayla giggles, ducking her head and grabbing her water. Before she takes a sip, she mutters, "Actually, I've never had a boyfriend before. I don't really talk to many people."

"Really?" I ask, realizing how innocent she is all at once. She might be single, but that doesn't mean I can make a move on her like I might with anyone else I'm interested in. I'm going to have to control myself. "Someone as pretty as you? I find that hard to believe."

"You're just saying that," she mutters, looking up at me through her eyelashes. Her cheeks turn bright pink, and I'm able to see a smattering of freckles.

"I promise you that I'm not," I tell her, enjoying the way she grins at the compliment. "I only asked about a boyfriend because I couldn't imagine a woman as pretty and kind as you not having one."

"Well," she says, an adorable smile on her face as she glances away from me again, "like I said. I don't talk to many people. It's hard to find a boyfriend if you aren't good at talking to anyone."

"You seem pretty good at talking to me," I point out. Then, even though I assumed she was shy and soft spoken around others, I say, "I would have assumed you were a social butterfly."

"Now you're just messing with me," she laughs, gathering a forkful of leaves and shoving them in her mouth. After she swallows, she adds, "You've been carrying most of our conversations."

"Maybe," I admit, knocking my foot against hers under the table. "But you haven't shut any of them down."

"That's because I like talking to you," she says, pushing her foot back against mine briefly before pulling back into her space. "Thanks for getting dinner last time, by the way. I can take care of it this time."

"Absolutely not," I say firmly, patting my wallet in my front pocket. "You're a college student, I'm sure your funds are fairly limited. I'll take care of this."

"Okay," she says after a moment, clearly not brave enough to fight me on this even though I can see in her eyes that she wants to. "If you insist."

"I do," I reply. Then, even though I'm a little worried she might not want to share, I ask, "How did you meet this nightmare roommate anyway?"

"A Facebook group," Shayla says, the sigh she lets out full of regret. "I realize now that moving in with a stranger probably wasn't the best idea."

"It works out for some people, though," I say sympathetically. "Besides, most college students go with random roommates. It's just luck of the draw."

"I guess you're right," she says wistfully. "So how'd you get into construction? You told me about the apartment complex your team is building, but you didn't tell me how you got into it."

"It's not an interesting story," I admit as I take a swig of my drink. "My dad was a foreman, and growing up I wanted to be just like him. He got me a job out of high school, and I took over for him a couple years ago when he retired."

"So you've known what you wanted to do with your life since you were a kid," she mutters, cocking her head to the side imperceptibly. "I wish I was that sure of myself."

"I can't say I've always been sure about myself," I tell her. "When I was your age, I wondered if I was making the right choice. Hell, even now I'm wondering if following in my father's footsteps was the right choice."

"What do you mean?" she says softly, her hand twitching on the table like she wants to reach out to me.

"Well, even though I'm financially set and own my own home, I'm single at thirty-two," I say, holding her gaze. "And I don't have much of a social life outside of Lucky's. I'm so tired by the time I get home from this that I can't bring myself to do much more than watch movies on my couch."

"That sounds like a nice evening, though," she says, smiling when I touch my foot against hers again. "I don't see a problem with the life you're living."

"It's gotten a little better as of late," I say, not telling her that meeting her is the reason why.

The moment simmers between us, and I find myself wishing that the two of us were alone. It almost feels like we are. At that moment, it's like there's no one in the restaurant but us. Then, that illusion is shattered by our server walking over with our plates.

After she places them in front of us, our conversation moves onto lighter topics. We talk about Shayla's classes as we work through our meal. When our server comes back to clear our plates, I talk her into dessert. Then, before the two of us part, I give her my number and assure her that as long as I'm home, my house is open to her.