Page 31 of Pucking Tangled

THIRTY

Waylon

Luca’s words struck a cord deep inside of Waylon.

Rookie called him out. He was posturing.

He walked into breakfast determined to prove a point. Make a statement.

One that had less to do with Mia and everything to do with the guys and with making himself feel better.

And now he needed to make it right.

So when he found her on the back patio that afternoon with Skeeter’s head in her lap and her brows etched in confusion and stress, he made up his mind.

He was going to check his ego at the door.

Drop the cocky attitude and be raw.

Genuine.

“Hey, Mia,” he said softly, approaching her cautiously.

She looked up at him and smiled, though a bit warily.

“You didn’t come out here to kiss me like some kind of maniac again, did you? ”

He chuckled. “Not unless you want me to.”

Mia bit her lip but didn’t answer.

“Nah. That’s really not why I came out here. I wanted to see if you wanted to get out of here for a little bit. Just me and you. Doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy.”

“Why? Are you sure you don’t just want to pick me up and carry me upstairs like a caveman?”

“I think you and I both know that’s not what you want. I realize I’ve been going about this all wrong. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to start over and do it right this time.”

Mia held out her hand and let Waylon take it. He helped her to her feet and she looked him in the eyes. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Way.”

Waylon took her to a tiny diner about twenty minutes from the house. A hidden gem that he secretly loved.

From the outside, it gleamed with chrome trim under a neon sign that read DJ’s Diner in bright right letters.

Inside, a row of red vinyl bar stools lined the counter, each one spinning with a satisfying squeak.

The black-and-white checkered floor shone under soft lighting from hanging fixtures.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee and deep-fried deliciousness hung in the air, warm and inviting.

A jukebox glowed in the corner, playing a mix of Elvis, Buddy Holly, and early rock-and-roll.

Booths were tucked along the windows, with more of that red vinyl upholstery and little tabletop jukebox selectors that probably hadn’t worked in years but still made people smile.

Smaller tables filled the middle of the space in the same 1950’s style.

The walls were decorated with framed records, vintage Coca-Cola ads, and black-and-white photos of smiling couples in letterman jackets.

Behind the counter, a waitress in a pale pink uniform and matching paper hat called out orders and refilled mugs of coffee. The menu was simple—burgers, fries, milkshakes in tall silver cups, and pies that looked like someone’s grandma had made them fresh that morning.

It was far from fancy, but it didn’t need to be.

“This place is so cute,” Mia mused, her eyes darting around to take everything in. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here. How sad is that?”

Waylon smiled at her. “Pretty cool, huh? I discovered it one day when I was out driving around, trying to see what the area had to offer.”

Tucked away in their own little corner of the diner, they shared laughs over greasy fries and chocolate milkshakes.

They didn’t talk about the others, or their ‘situation’.

He asked her how school was going and listened intently as she talked about what she had left to do before graduation.

“I’ll have to sit for the bar. And then get certified by the NHLPA before I can even really consider taking on clients.”

“Wait, you want to be a sports agent? Shit, Mia. I didn’t realize that. I’m fucking impressed.” He smiled back at her, proudly. “I think I know a few guys who may just need a new agent soon.” To that he wiggled his brows.

Mia laughed.

Fuck he loved the sound of her laugh.

“We’ll see.” She took another sip of her milkshake. “Okay. My turn to ask you a question.”

“Go for it.” Tonight, he was an open book .

“Do you still have all of your teeth?”

Waylon smiled wide then laughed, telling her the story of how he lost his front tooth in a scuffle with a pissed off goalie the year before he got drafted.

“Knock on wood,” he tapped the tabletop, “that’s the only tooth I’ve lost. My parents paid for me to have an implant put in so I wouldn’t go walking around looking like Stu from The Hangover .”

Mia covered her mouth and giggled.

“And your tattoos?” she said after she’d finished laughing at him.

“What about them?” He glanced at the ones visible on his arms.

“I assume they all mean something.”

His skin prickled as she reached out and traced over clock on the inside of his forearm.

“Not gonna lie, I got the first one to the minute I turned 18. Just to piss off my parents,” he chuckled. “But they all mean something. They’re a part of my story, if you will. It helped that each one only made Mom and Dad madder.”

He didn’t tell her that several had been hand drawn by him, too.

Mia made that adorable little face, the one where she scrunched up her nose when she was trying to figure something out. “Are you not close with your parents?”

“Yes and no. It’s a long story. One for another day.”

Because the last thing he wanted to do was dive into the complex relationship he had with DeeAnna and Tristan Ryan.

Mia nodded and have his hand a squeeze.

They finished their meals—burgers and fries and milkshakes—of course, and Waylon ordered a slice of apple pie for them to share as they laughed together some more .

And for the first time since Mia moved in, Waylon didn’t feel like he was falling behind.

Struggling to breathe.

He felt alive and present.

They were getting to know each other beyond the tension and chemistry. Opening up to one another on a deeper level and building a foundation. Something he should have done all along, instead of treating her like another conquest. Especially since she was anything but.

Eventually, they closed the diner down.

Waylon left the waitress a hefty tip and signed a paper menu for a keepsake.

Then he walked Mia out to his truck and helped her inside.

“Are you in a hurry to get back?” he asked as he fired the truck up.

“Not at all. What did you have in mind?”

He reached across the center and took her hand in his. “It’s a surprise.”

He drove out to Overlook Park and they sat on the tailgate of his truck, staring out over the city lights and taking in the night sky.

Mia leaned against him, her head on his shoulder and her hand in his as they talked quietly.

Waylon resisted the urge to kiss her.

Even when she tilted her head up, her expression hopeful.

He just smiled and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome. It’s been nice. Refreshing. ”

Mia ran her fingers up and down his thigh. Tempting. Teasing.

“Mia,” he let out a quiet breath. “I’m not looking for anything from you tonight.”

Her brows scrunched up in confusion. “But…why?”

“Because you’ve given too much of yourself to everyone else lately,” he murmured. “And I just wanted to give you something for a change.”

She blinked, staring at him like she had no clue what to do with his statement.

This wasn’t just about chemistry.

It wasn’t just about sex.

It was about earning her. Not just having her.

And he was ashamed to admit that it took Luca chewing him out for him to truly realize that.

When they finally made it back to the house, he walked her inside and followed her up the stairs. He paused outside her bedroom door and kissed her on the forehead before whispering goodnight and walking away.

As he did, he admitted to himself that holding back tonight may have been harder than walking away the day he caught her with her hand between her legs.