Salma dragged the dampened cloth over the counter for the third time in the past hour, mindlessly scrubbing away coffee stains and stuck on maple syrup. The Tuesday morning dragged on with little patron’s, everything spending their days at work to rack up as much money as they could for the holiday season. She didn’t dare glance at the communal tip jar at the end of the counter, barely holding double digit dollars. She could use the money, not for presents -- those were something she didn’t have to worry about --- but for her own sanity.
She hoped to move from her house by the new year, forge her own place outside her aunt’s erratic decor and disappointed eyes. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t left the small town of Everwood since she graduated the local community college with an associated degree collecting dust in the basement.
When the bell rang signifying a new patron, Salma’s swiping paused, leaving a smear of water over a stuck-on coffee ring. The air turned uncomfortably warm, her body buzzing with a subtle warning. She looked up to meet the man’s eyes, her breath caught in her throat. She knew the man standing in the doorway, snow salting his hair. His eyes stared at her hard and cold despite the hear he brings with him.
It was a rarity for Evan Monroe to come into the diner, but every time he did, Salma wanted to crawl into the back freezer and wait for him to leave.
He strolled over, not breaking eye contact and slid into the stool in front of her. “Going to order more than coffee this time?”
