Love or Luxury

by Heather Thurmeier

  "So, you're the manager, but you still do your own estimates? Don't you have a guy to do that for you?"

  "Nope, just me. But that's okay. I like doing it. That way I really get to see the location and can give a solid estimate my guys can match."

  At least he's sweet. He's got that going for him if nothing else. Well, and his looks.

  "It's really nice you care enough to go out in the field to make sure your customers get the right price for the job. The customer always comes first, right?" She twirled a piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

  So he wasn't a big shot from the Meadow, but he was hot, and honest, too. And flirting with him was so easy. Maybe she'd at least score a bigger tip since scoring a date was out of the question.

  A throat cleared a few booths away, followed by the loud clinking of a spoon in an empty coffee cup.

  Mr Motorcycle nodded to the man in the corner booth who looked at his empty cup with a mixture of longing and annoyance. "I hate to share you, but I think that guy might need a refill before he goes into caffeine withdrawal."

  "Yikes. I better get on that… on him… to him with the coffee. I'll be back."

  Way to go, Becks. A hot guy who cares about his customers shows a little interest and you're too busy gawking at him to pay attention to your own customers. That'll earn you a bigger tip for sure.

  He laughed as she walked away, coffee pot in her hand and embarrassment on her cheeks.

  Her chances at getting to know Mr Motorcycle slipped away as she walked back behind the counter, thinking about him and his construction job. She glanced over to him quickly while ringing out a customer at the register.

  He seemed so nice. And so her type with his sexy, yet casual looks, great wardrobe, and laidback attitude. But he wasn't from the Meadow.

  Damn it. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't she meet a guy as awesome as this one seemed, yet still be from the Meadow? That really wasn't too much to ask, was it?

  On the other hand, if she was only looking for a little fun to pass the time, did it really matter if he wasn't from the Meadow?

  "Can I get you anything else?" she asked politely as she took Mr Motorcycle's plate away. He may not have a chance with her outside the diner, but she still felt compelled to be nice to him while he was her customer.

  He smiled at her, and a shot of electricity raced through her chest and settled deep in her belly. Maybe it really didn't matter where he was from.

  * * * *

  Finn looked up from his empty plate and into the eyes of the girl he'd almost hit earlier on his bike. He still wasn't over the sight of her standing there in the crosswalk, terrified. He had to learn to be more careful. Of course, she had to learn to look both ways before she crossed the street, too.

  Now here he was in some random diner and here she was, the beautiful girl from the Meadow crosswalk. How had this twist of fate worked out?

  Girls from the Meadow did not work, and if they did, it was for a non-profit or a Fortune 500 company. There was no in between, no gray area for blue-collar jobs. Certainly, they didn't have jobs as waitresses in a diner.

  How had he been lucky enough to drive past this very diner earlier when he'd noticed the unforgettable fiery redhead heading inside with an apron in her hand? He could kiss fate on the lips for this nice twist.

  His eyes darted to her lips. He could kiss those lips, too.

  Maybe she wasn't a girl from the Meadow after all. Maybe she'd only been visiting with someone. Or she has a second job in the Meadow. Many people had to take multiple jobs in this economy.

  Of course, she had been driving a Beamer. But not a new one—only new enough, and in good enough condition to appear new.

  She didn't fit the mold in any of the scenarios running through his mind. So who was this girl?

  She was interesting.

  If only he could sit around and chat with her all day. But by the expressions on her customers' faces, they needed her attention, too. And he didn't feel much like sharing her.

  After the almost-accident, she'd come off as such a typical Meadow girl he'd basically written her off as a spoiled rich bitch. Yet, all morning he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her or that crazy red hair of hers.

  Maybe he'd judged her too quickly in the heat of the moment at the crosswalk. Maybe there was something more to this girl, and he'd love to find out what it was. There had to be if she was working in this diner.

  "Are you from the Meadow?" he asked. May as well just find out if he stood any shot with her or not.

  "I am."

  "But you work at a diner in the city?"

  "I do." She eyed him cautiously, almost as if she dared him to pry further. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to pay the rent."

  So she wasn't a typical rich bitch from the Meadow. Maybe she'd been a student at the university and had decided to stick around after graduation. He knew lots of people who'd done that. Meadow Ridge was a hard place to leave once one got accustomed to that way of life.

  "Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

  "As much as I'd like to order a slice of pie so I have the excuse to talk to you for longer, I have to hit the road if I'm going to make it on time to my next appointment." He got up from the bar stool and threw a few bills onto his check. It was more than enough to cover the price. Hopefully, even enough to earn him a smile and a friendly hello the next time he stopped in for a burger.

  He'd definitely be stopping in again. Soon.

  "Another time maybe," she said, holding his gaze for a moment before moving out from behind the counter and scooping up his money. As she walked past him toward the register, her arm brushed against his chest, and a little twinge of something sparked inside him.

  Was it electricity like on one of those crappy old black and white movies his mom used to make him watch where the couple meets and it's love at first sight then they get married and live happily ever after? No. He didn't believe in a love like that or marriage, for that matter.

  Maybe what he'd felt was regret for almost killing her earlier. Or maybe it was sadness at the thought of having to leave without so much as knowing her name.

  He had to at least have a name to go with the face that had rooted itself into his mind today, forcibly occupying his every thought.

  He took her arm, gently stopping her. She turned to peer at him, clearly just as surprised to find his hand on her arm as he was. Maybe she'd felt that same surge of electricity or whatever it was. Her mouth opened like she wanted to say something, but didn't.

  "Want to go out sometime?" he asked. Where the hell did that come from? He went from wanting to ask her name to asking her out?

  "Sure." She nodded.

  "Friday night?" he asked before he chickened out.

  "Sure." She nodded again, her unblinking eyes penetrating into him. Damn they were gorgeous.

  "I'll pick you up at your place, just tell me where to go."

  She glanced down to her hands, biting her lower lip for a moment before answering him.

  "My apartment is, um, complicated to get to. How about where we first met instead?"

  "Sounds good. This time, I promise not to almost run you down."

  "Okay," she said simply. She looked about as confused as he was at this new turn of events.

  He smiled as she walked to the register with his money then quickly collected his things, and strode out the door before she had a chance to find her voice and change her mind about going on a date with a virtual stranger. As he climbed onto his motorcycle and revved the engine, he took one last glance at the diner, thinking about the fiery redhead inside.

  Damn it, he still hadn't found out her name.

  Chapter Three

  Rebecca sat with Scarlett, Bryn, and Eliza at their usual table by the window in Brookside Bistro. The sun shone in, casting a warm glow across the gleaming cherry wood finish. The weather was crisp today, surely helping the leaves turn their colors. But this weekend, Friday in particular,
promised to be warm and sunny—perfect for riding on the back of a motorcycle.

  The girls chatted around her as she scanned the menu. What was cheap enough that it wouldn't hurt too much to order, but not so out of character that her friends would notice? She'd normally order the grilled salmon with risotto, but it was thirty-five dollars she didn't need to spend—couldn't spend—on one meal right now, not to mention her drink was another ten. There had to be something cheaper, something that wouldn't put her off budget.

  A budget.

  Her friends would cringe at the word if they knew it had gone through her mind for something that wasn't related to organizing a huge fundraising event. Fundraising was the only time a budget came into effect for her friends, and even then it was usually more of a suggestion than a hard and fast rule. Daddy's checkbook always covered the extra.

  Of course, her daddy couldn't save her with his checkbook. She was on her own in the world, and her bank account wouldn't be built up by anyone but herself. Or a husband, if she ever managed to find one.

  Rebecca folded her menu and handed it to the waiter as he walked up to the table to take their order. The grilled salmon on salad was close enough to what she normally ordered and a fraction of the price. Probably it would be a fraction of the size, too, but that was okay. She'd just drink more water with her meal to fill up.

  "On a diet again?" Scarlett asked after placing her own order for the lobster ravioli, her usual.

  "Yeah, I can always stand to lose a few." Rebecca shrugged. Normally, she thought she looked pretty good just as she was, but a diet was a better excuse for the light meal than needing to save money. So if her friends wanted to think she needed to lose a few pounds for a little while, that was okay with her. And truthfully, eating like this, she probably would lose more than a few pounds.

  Hopefully not too many. She needed the few things she still owned to fit her for the foreseeable future. She couldn't afford to spend money buying new, slimmer clothes.

  "So who's the guy who's finally made you forget about Reid?" Bryn asked with the sly look in her eye she got when she went digging for details.

  "What guy?" Rebecca asked with a cough, choking on her water, realizing the question had been directed at her. "And I haven't forgotten about Reid."

  "Hey, are you hiding a hottie? Not fair. Why am I always the last the know everything?" Eliza snapped. She was the baby of her family and sometimes fell back into acting that way in their group of friends, too.

  "You're not the last to know. There's nothing to know." Rebecca rolled her eyes. "There is no guy. I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Oh, come on now, there's no need to lie about it." Bryn clucked her tongue dismissively.

  "She's right, you can tell us. Obviously there's a new guy if you're watching what you eat so closely. You're planning on letting him see you naked soon, aren't you?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow at her from across the table. "Dirty bird."

  An image of Mr Motorcycle, hovering over her with his stubble scraping against the soft skin of her breast as he sucked her nipple into his hot mouth flashed through her mind and straight to her core.

  The sunlight streaming in the window sure made it hot in the restaurant.

  She took a big gulp of her ice water. "I'm not planning on getting naked with him. I barely know him."

  Eliza clapped her hands together like she did every time she got excited. "There is a guy! Who is he? What's he like? Where'd you meet him?"

  "All right. Spill it, Becks. We need details," Bryn demanded.

  "There's not much to tell," Rebecca started. "I met a guy and he asked me out, so I'm seeing him on Friday. But I'm not planning on getting naked with him. It's just a date. That's all."

  "So where'd you meet him?" Scarlett asked, her eyes twinkling. She was a "love at first sight" and "happily ever after" believer all the way. Rebecca wanted to believe in those things, but didn't. Happily ever after didn't include a wife dying and leaving a father struggling to raise a little girl.

  Rebecca retold the story of Mr Motorcycle and relaxed as the girls laughed in all the right places. Of course, she'd changed the diner meeting to them dining as customers. They didn't need to know every detail exactly as it happened. As she told the story, she realized it was kind of cool how she'd met him—whoever he was.

  "What exactly were you doing in some seedy diner in the city?" Bryn scowled.

  "It wasn't a seedy diner. It was Emmett's Diner. I had to see him about setting up our next fundraiser and ended up ordering lunch while I was there to be polite." Rebecca had run a fundraiser for the shelter at Emmett's and, after seeing all the money she could make in tips, she'd begged him to keep her on as staff. Of course, her girlfriends didn't know that, and she wasn't about to tell them now. Working at the diner was her deepest secret and one she planned on keeping.

  "So this guy, he doesn't live in the Meadow? Does he at least live in one of those huge high rises in the city in a penthouse or something?" If the expression on Bryn's face was any indication, she thought very little of hunky Mr Motorcycle.

  "I don't know where he lives, only that he lives and works in the city."

  "Did he mention what his job is?" Eliza asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  Rebecca swallowed another sip of water. She already knew how well this tidbit of information would go over with the girls. "Construction."

  Bryn choked on her cocktail. "You flirted up a guy sporting ass crack? Oh, my God. Reid really has been gone a long, long time, hasn't he? You can't possibly be that desperate for a booty call. Who are you and what have you done with my Becks?"

  Rebecca felt of spike of defensiveness rush through her. "He's not a construction worker; he's the project manager. There's a difference, starting with full ass-crack coverage."

  "He sounds nice," Scarlett said, taking a bite of the food the waiter had placed in front of her.

  "He sounds like a loser." Bryn motioned for the waiter to bring her another martini. Great. Buzzed Bryn was even more judgmental than sober Bryn.

  "I figured I'd flirt with him some more on Friday when we go on our date." Rebecca smiled at the expression on Bryn's face. If there was anything that made her happy, it was butting heads with Bryn.

  Besides, Mr Motorcycle had been uber-hot and totally sexy, and he'd been fun to flirt with. Sure, he couldn't give her the life she wanted in the Meadow, but he could give her a good ride on his motorcycle… and probably in the bedroom, too, for that matter. And since she didn't have anything else going on right now, and Reid was taking his sweet-ass time completing med school, she may as well have a little fun with a new hot guy while she waited.

  "Maybe you'll even take the time to find out his name." Scarlett laughed.

  "Hey, that's not nice," Rebecca joked. "It's not like I was thinking clearly when I had a motorcycle almost hit me."

  "And your excuse for not getting his name in the restaurant?" Eliza teased.

  "Being blinded by his good looks, of course."

  Rebecca finished her salad as the girls chatted, and Bryn held her tongue about anything else construction worker related. When Rebecca was done eating, she took a twenty out of her wallet and put it in the middle of the table. "Sorry girls, but I have to run. I have a few errands to do and then I have to go home and see if I have anything motorcycle-date appropriate."

  "Does it even matter what you wear if all you're looking for is a good time?"

  "Why don't we go shopping and find you the perfect thing?" Eliza offered, obviously ignoring Bryn's snide comment.

  "Thanks, but I'm sure I have something at home. I'll text you guys if I need to go shopping for anything."

  Rebecca dashed out of the restaurant before the girls could talk her into a shopping trip she couldn't afford. Did she have the perfect thing to wear in her closet? Probably not, but she couldn't go out and buy anything, either. Whatever she had would have to be good enough.

  Scrolling through her emails on her iPhone, she saw a me
ssage from the Meadow Ridge Credit Union. Shit. What the hell did they want now? 'Cause if they wanted more of her money, they were going to have to get in line. Currently, her line wrapped around the block like a Black Friday sale on cheap electronics.

  Reluctantly, and against her better judgment, she opened the email.

  Dear Ms Sanders,

  It has come to our attention that your revolving line of credit has now gone into overdraft. Please make a minimum payment of five hundred dollars at your earliest convenience. Your account has been placed on hold until the balance is within limits again. Thank you, and have a wonderful day in the Meadow.

  Sincerely,

  Edward Mills, Bank Manager

  After a quick swipe of her finger, the nasty message magically disappeared into the abyss of deleted emails, never to be seen or read again. Just where it belonged.

  Didn't they know she was doing the best she could? Did they think she could conjure up some money for them simply by wishing for it? If only she had a magic genie, that might be true. But as she knew, all too well, life was not a fairytale and there was no magic genie or fairy godmother or even a single Prince Charming to come and save her from the mess she'd created.

  "Ouch." She yelped as she walked directly into something she'd been too absorbed in her cell phone to see. Fumbling and trying not to drop her phone, she took a quick step back. With her phone gripped safely against her chest, she sighed with relief. She couldn't afford to pay full price on a new phone if she broke this one by dropping it on the sidewalk. She had to remember to be more careful with her things from now on. No more careless accidents resulting in shiny new electronics even if she did love an excuse to go shopping for new technology.

  "Rebecca, is that really you?"

  Rebecca looked up to see a tall, incredibly handsome man with light hair and the most stunning green eyes. Reid Harper.

  Back home and in the flesh. Delicious-looking flesh if the hint of abs beneath his fitted shirt was any indication.