Page 19 of 500 First Editions (The Romantics #3)

I had always liked Clark Kent more than Superman, anyway.

“The gas station owner said there’s a little diner a mile down the road. Solid breakfast and good coffee. Do you want hot food or gas station snacks?”

My growling stomach answered for me as the pump shut off. I hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and I needed something filling if we were going to make the long-haul part of the trip today.

Ryan took the passenger’s seat and I hopped behind the wheel. True to his word, there was a diner just down the road. Well, the sign was for a diner. The diner was a house.

“The parking lot’s packed, so I’m gonna take that as a good sign,” Ryan said as he unbuckled.

I glanced at the grass in front of the house. “That’s a yard.”

Ryan chuckled. “Live a little. Maybe you’ll get some book inspiration.”

Mountain Mama’s was exactly what I had thought it was from outside—a house that had been emptied out and filled with vinyl booths and four-top tables.

What I assumed had once been the living room was turned into the main dining room.

A second dining space was in the actual dining room.

The only barrier between patrons and cooks was the formica countertop that served as a bar for single guests and to-go orders.

An older woman who had a lit cigarette tucked behind her ear whisked Ryan and me into a corner booth. “Mornin’, kids. Whatcha want?”

I looked around for a menu while Ryan did the same.

The woman fluffed her silver hair. “No menus. Don’t need ‘em. We’ve got it all.”

Ryan and I shared a wary look, then he took the jump. “Pancakes?”

“Plain, chocolate chip, banana, or blueberry?”

“Banana,” he said.

“Bacon and eggs?” she asked without skipping a beat.

“Scrambled. And coffee, please.”

“I’ll do the same,” I chimed in. Honestly, I just wanted calories. I didn’t care what shape they came in.

And then we were alone.

“Have you heard from Lisa?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah. She texted me this morning to see when I thought I was going to arrive.” I sighed. “I need to let my parents know I’m going to be in town.” That would go over like a fart in church.

“You look like you’d rather drive to Mars than do that.”

I sighed. “My mom and Shep divorced when I was in high school. She didn’t like that we kept in touch after that.”

“He was part of your life for practically all of it,” Ryan said. “People don’t just disappear because there are divorce papers.” He spun the salt shaker between his fingers. “Has your mom ever remarried?”

I shook my head.

“Your dad?” he asked.

“No. He dates, but it’s never gone anywhere. Apparently, my parents’ divorce was nasty. At least that’s what Amber says. I was too young to know what was going on.”

“And Amber is your?—”

“Sister. She’s a few years older than me.” I took a deep breath. “And while we’re there, you should probably call me Autumn.”

“Autumn . . .” Ryan’s mouth flickered into a soft smile. “I like that.” He extended his hand across the table. “Nice to meet you, Autumn?—”

“Hart.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Hart? You’re a romance author, and your last name is Hart?”

“H-A-R-T. Not H-E-A-R-T.” I let out a blustering breath. “Now you know my secret identity. But you’re only to use it around my family.”

“Huh,” he said, dramatically stroking his chin. “Autumn Hart. Well, at least I finally know the legal name of my future wife. It’ll make applying for our marriage license a lot easier.”

I rolled my eyes.

The lady returned with two cups of coffee in random ceramic mugs. A cigarette hung from her mouth, bobbing up and down as she turned and disappeared. My mug was from a local baseball team, while Ryan’s sported a food service supplier’s logo.

“I think both names suit you,” Ryan said as he grabbed a sugar packet and a tiny cup of creamer from the caddy on the table and dumped them into his mug.

“More people call me Willow than Autumn. Sometimes it feels strange to use Autumn even though it’s still my legal name.”

“Do you prefer Willow?”

I nodded as grief bloomed in my throat. “Yeah.”

“Then I’ll keep calling you Willow.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Just like that?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I can just start calling you Mrs. Ford if you prefer that.”

I threw a sugar packet at him.

Ryan caught it and laughed. “It’s not a big deal, Wills. It’s just a name. Use whatever one you want.”

Plates appeared in front of us, piled high with fluffy banana pancakes, eggs, and bacon so crisp it shattered when I touched it.

We ate quietly, both of us enjoying the din of the restaurant as more and more folks piled in for the peak of the breakfast rush. I tried to push away the thoughts of what awaited me back home, but they kept flooding in. I needed a distraction.

“I’m sorry this throws a wrench into your master plan to get your twelve-step program to work.”

Ryan crunched on a piece of bacon. “You’re not sorry. But neither am I.”

“Hate to break it to you, but there’s no cool date spots in my Manhattan. Nowhere for a wow moment.”

He studied me curiously. “If you haven’t noticed by now, it’s not about flashy dates.”

“Darn it,” I joked.

Ryan grabbed a single-ply napkin and wiped his mouth. “If you never want to see me again at the end of this, that’s your business. But I’m not playing around.”

“Why did you insist on coming with me?” I drained the last of my coffee and appreciated how quickly the caffeine went to my brain. “Last week we didn’t even know each other, and now you’re committing to a twenty-something-hour road trip and being thrown into a stranger’s very weird family dynamic.”

“Because you don’t get to choose when life happens,” Ryan said. “Sometimes shit like this happens the day you meet your soulmate. Sometimes it doesn’t happen until you’ve been married for a decade and have the house with the white picket fence.”

“I don’t want a white picket fence.”

“No?”

The lady dropped off the bill. When I made a move for my purse, Ryan shook his head and reached for his wallet.

“You got the gas. Let me cover breakfast.” He handed over his card, then turned back to me. “What’s the dream, then?”

“I want a little house and a big van.”

“You want to keep traveling?"

“I love it,” I admitted. “I’m saving up for one of those tricked-out passenger vans with a full bed and kitchenette in the back.”

Ryan’s card was dropped back off, along with a receipt for him to sign. I left a few bills on the table to cover the tip before easing out of the booth. We made pit stops at the restrooms before heading out to the car to tackle the next stretch of highway.

“Where?” Ryan asked as he opened the driver’s side door for me.

I slid behind the wheel. “Where what?”

“Where do you want the little house?”

I let out a sharp breath as daylight lit up the mountains in breathtaking blues and greens. It was angelic. “Halfway between home and heaven.”

Ryan shut my door, then climbed in the other side and buckled up. “Whenever you decide where that is, let me know so I can start looking at properties.”

This man . . .

“Do you have a quippy comeback for everything?” I asked as I pulled out of the lot and followed the GPS back to the highway.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re so facetious.”

“I’m not being facetious.”

“Ryan—”

He reached into the backseat to grab his pillow and folded it over like I had. “I like you, Willow. And God help me, sometimes I don’t know why. I liked you from the minute you rounded the corner back at that little store and ran into me.”

“You’re just saying that because you think it’s going to get me to fall in love with you so you can win.”

Ryan wedged the pillow into the corner of the seat and the door. “I can’t control how you feel about me. But I hope you let me fall in love with you. Because I really fucking want to.”