LOLA, AKA THE SAUSAGE FAN

My life in Basin Rock doesn’t change much once I’m engaged. Over the next two days, I get occasional questions from diner regulars about my upcoming nuptials. They’re very interested in Val, who they’ve heard is a pretty yet stupid man with large feet.

“You know what they say,” murmurs eighty-year-old Shannon during lunch when she repeats Val’s description. “About big feet, I mean.”

I smile and nod at the idea of Val packing massive heat. Yet, in my head, I quickly remind myself how I don’t care if he’s got a teeny-weeny, purple-dotted weenie.

The man makes me crazy, and that’s okay. I’ve chosen to own my feelings, but I also need to view Val as a real person. All this talk of him being a dumb stripper-like man is fine for regulars who will soon be charmed by him. However, I won’t fall into a delusion. I want to see the real Val.

Perhaps beckoned by my thoughts, Val rides up to the diner as Shannon and Tracey discuss the biggest meat they’ve enjoyed.

“My first husband was packing an honest-to-goodness bratwurst,” Tracey insists. “My second husband was more like a knackwurst. Shorter but plump.”

I frown at Grandma Erin who instigated the dick-as-food discussion. Nearby, a few older farmers feign horror at these seemingly uptight women objectifying men.

“My husband was like knackwurst,” Shannon replies and then smiles wistfully. “But in my youth, I had wonderful sexual relations with a man who was packing a chorizo. Very spicy.”

Outside, Val climbs off his motorcycle and looks around. His sandy brown hair is windblown. He’s wearing a dark blue-and-gray flannel shirt over a gray tank top. His blue jeans cling to his powerful thighs, and he rounds out his outfit with riding boots. He looks relaxed yet sexy as hell.

Entering the diner, Val wears a wide-eyed expression until he sees me behind the counter. A cocky grin slides across his handsome face as he tugs his phone from his jeans. He starts playing “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads and tries to sing along.

“What’s he doing?” Grandma Erin asks while Val attempts to get a groovy dance going to the song’s awkward, jarring beat and lyrics.

“I told him this song turned me on,” I whisper to my grandmother as Val winks at clapping Shannon and Tracey. “I think he’s serenading me.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Too bad you didn’t pick a better song.”

Just then, Val hits a terribly awkward high note and makes the farmers laugh. Maybe realizing the dreadful singing is killing his sexiness, Val slides off his flannel top and spins it over his head.

The farmers stop laughing and get irritated with the tanned stud before them. Meanwhile, Shannon nearly faints while Tracey looks like she needs a fan for her hot flashes. Grandma Erin nudges me and nods approvingly.

I finally move toward where Val tries his damnedest to get a groove going to the jarring electric notes from a song I pretended to love.

“That’s enough,” I say and wrap my hands around his wrists.

Val smiles at me. “Nailed it, right?”

“You’re outstanding, but please stop singing.”

Val loses his smile. “Wait, are you not loving the view? I mean I know for a fact that I’m exuding sex appeal. Look at those ladies getting lightheaded and the men suffering from self-loathing.”

I smile at his ridiculous confidence. “Of course, you look great. But people are trying to eat, and that song is killing the vibe in here.”

“Doesn’t this song turn you on?”

“No.”

“But you said...”

Tugging him away from the others, I nudge him into a chair at the back. “I appreciate you memorizing all the dumb shit I said when I was drunk that night. However, I was lying, and that song doesn’t make me horny.”

“What song gets your juices flowing?” he asks, admiring my breasts.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Because it’s embarrassing?”

“No, I’m afraid you’ll sing it at me in the future.”

“I’m an excellent singer. When I do karaoke, I always get applause. Sometimes, women throw their panties and try to shove twenties down my jeans. I’m very talented.”

“No doubt, but I don’t want you to sing to me.”

“What if we’re naked in bed and I’ve sexually satisfied you?”

“Okay, then, sing away. But never at the restaurant where old people might die from your sex appeal.”

Glancing in the flushed women’s direction, he replies, “They’re not that old.”

“When you’re nearly shirtless, they are.”

Val flashes a cocky smile. “All of this,” he says and gestures over his body and face, “is natural. I didn’t even need braces to have perfect teeth. I have great genetics.”

My fingers slide under his chin, enjoying the feel of his rough whiskers. I’ve fantasized about watching Val shave. Hell, I’ve fantasized about talking to him through a door while he uses the bathroom. I’ve lived a whole lifetime with Val in my head, always believing none of those domesticated dreams could come true.

Soon, he’ll be my husband. Seeing him up close like this in my family’s diner shorts out my worries. I only want to know him better.

“Will you come to my house tonight for dinner?” I ask before adding, “No sex.”

“I can’t drive all the way home and then come back. It’s too tiring. I’ll hang out here until dinnertime.”

“And the sex part?”

“I plan to rock your world for the rest of our lives,” he says with complete sincerity as he holds my hand. “I can wait for a few weeks.”

My stomach flips at how soon we’ll be married. I brush my fingers through his hair and smile at how he grins at me.

“Are you a good cook?” he asks after giving the diner a quick glance.

“Sure. I’m working in the kitchen today since our cook is sick. On Sundays, I go to my dad’s house and cook dinner. I’m not a great chef, but I can make a lot of things.”

“I wouldn’t care if you were a terrible cook. I just want you.”

“And I don’t care if you’re a great singer or dancer.”

“I am, though.”

“Very much so. I think your talent might have killed Shannon and Tracey.”

We glance at where the women are still fanning themselves and giggling like schoolgirls.

“Should I meet those ladies? Will they be part of my life soon?”

“I don’t know. I can’t picture what the future will be like once we’re married. You want to live in Tumbling Rock, but I live here.”

“Is your place nice?”

“It’s a one-bedroom apartment, but I have a master suite.”

“Will I need to duck a lot?”

“A little maybe. Duke says the old building makes him feel cramped.”

Val offers a winning smile. “I promise not to complain to you.”

“But will you complain behind my back?”

“Of course. I wasn’t raised to suffer in silence.”

I smile at how his fingers play with the seam of my shirt. He’s so handsome up close like this, and I find myself forgetting about curses or rival clubs. I can’t see past the only man to make me weak in the knees.

“The lunch rush is coming through soon,” I explain and brush my thumb across his lower lip. “Want to help me in the kitchen?”

Val’s already happy expression brightens even more. I noticed his easy smile as soon as we met. He was sexier than sin itself, but he also smiled so much. Life was good, and Val was happy. I’ve never met a man who wore his feelings out in the open, just daring someone to try to bring him down.

Right now, he’s happy about spending the afternoon with me. I’m overjoyed at how I don’t need to push him away. I plan to enjoy the ride from now on.

Once in the kitchen, I prepare for Val’s fun personality to get in the way of work. I assume he’ll only joke around and flirt with me.

However, he proves to be a hard worker. Sure, he casually pats my ass from time to time. He also plants a kiss on me when we’re in the freezer at one point. Mostly, though, he hunkers down through the brutal lunch rush as local bikers, farm workers, and grumpy elders fill up every booth and stool.

We find a smooth rhythm by the service’s peak. Val never loses his smile despite the intense pace or the kitchen’s heat. Though it all, he hums along with the music playing overhead and sticks close to me.

If I wasn’t already hooked on Val Mercer, his performance at lunch seals the deal.