Page 15

“The amount of fat, sugar, salt…” Athena closed her eyes.

Pieces of the Chad puzzle were swirling in her mind, driving her crazy.

He knew his way around a kitchen. Sure, his chopping skills needed help, and he didn’t understand the smoke points of different cooking oils, but did the average person?

The truth, as she saw it, was that the man either cooked a fair amount, despite his protestations that he didn’t, or else he put in significant time studying up before they filmed. Even though he couldn’t possibly know what she was about to prepare and which skills he’d need.

But the biggest truth was that to get a body like his, he couldn’t eat the way he was tonight.

In fact, he was looking paler than he had ten minutes ago, and he seemed to be losing speed the further he got into his binge-fest.

“He’s messing with me,” Athena muttered, dropping her elbows onto the table. “As always.” She shook her head. Whatever Chad was up to, she would not let him ruin her date. “Hey, so you must like reading?”

Glenn lit up. “I do. Although mostly for work. Americanism and identity in novels published between 1855 and 1900 have been my siren’s call lately.”

“Interesting.” She took a sip of her huckleberry tea, nodding politely.

There went the chance of sharing books in that cozy little home library she’d envisioned when she’d first heard about their potential date. Last night she’d stayed up way too late, having gotten sucked into a book she’d ordered for the store.

Just before Christmas she’d been joking with her friends Hannah and Cass about cavemen romance being a genre.

One thing had led to another and suddenly she was up until two in the morning, chewing on the corner of her thumbnail as Corg went alpha on Lucy, claiming her in ways Athena didn’t even realize existed.

Well, Chad probably did…

Speaking of the man, his usual healthy complexion seemed to have taken on a greenish tinge. Or was that just the diner’s fluorescent lighting and her hopeful feelings related to his general doom?

Chad leaned back in his chair, his eyes scrunched shut, his face pale.

Good. She hoped he barfed in that beautiful red sports car he’d parked out front.

He stood suddenly, wavered on his feet and then beelined to the door, his complexion definitely an unnatural shade of green. He hit the door at top speed, and Athena gripped the edge of her table, thoughts tumbling through her mind.

It could be the flu.

Yes, it was probably the flu.

It definitely couldn’t be an indicator that, when it came to his daily diet and what foods his body was used to, Chadwick Raul Mullens was a big, fat, sexy liar.

What had he been trying to prove? He was like a desperate teenager begging for attention, determined to come off as someone cool.

He hadn’t acted like this over a woman in, well, ever.

Even as a teen he’d been too smart to act this dumb.

Or at least too busy raising himself and working hard at hockey.

Mullens dropped his hands to his hips and paced the empty sidewalk outside the diner, glad to feel the roiling in his gut start to settle.

At least he hadn’t barfed in the Longhorn Diner or out here on Main Street for all the town to see. The only problem was that now he had to go back in, pay his bill and walk past what was surely a gloating Athena—twice.

It could be worse, he thought, staring at his beautiful, cherry-red Corvette. He could have thrown up all over its pretty interior.

An older man with almost-white hair came sauntering out of the diner. He was a cowboy through and through, a frown deeply etched into the lines of his face. He spotted Mullens and came over to slap him on the shoulder.

“You sure can put that food away. I ain’t seen nothin’ like that since Carmichael was a teen. Oh, how our mother would get all up in arms. He’d eat everything in sight, like my great-nephew Myles. Only more!”

“Uh, thanks.”

“No. Thank you .” The man shook his hand, while placing his other one on Mullens’ shoulder. He walked away, saying, “Good memories. Good memories.”

Mullens straightened his spine and tipped his head back with a sigh. At least he’d impressed someone. The town was growing on him, and he’d been around often enough lately that a few faces were becoming familiar. Almost as if this place could become home if he spent more time here.

Determined to maintain what little pride he had left, he vowed to walk back inside without looking at Athena or her date, pay his bill and leave.

He opened the door, ignoring the protestations coming from his gut as the scents of garlic, butter and grease hit his nostrils.

Immediately someone’s hands pressed against his chest. He glanced down in surprise, expecting Mrs. Fisher.

The waitress probably thought he’d been trying to dine and dash.

Except for the part about returning to the scene of the crime.

“It’s taken care of. Head home,” Athena said quietly, gently pushing him out onto the sidewalk.

He backed up and she followed, crossing her arms against the chill in the evening air.

She looked pretty, her hair tumbling to her shoulders, her clingy wool dress wrapping around her body like a lover, her tall dark leather boots hiding what he knew were gorgeous calves.

She was watching him, her eyes darting across his face, looking for clues—probably as to the reason for his asinine behavior.

“What do I owe you?” he asked.

She shook her head, a knowing smile softening her features.

“What?” He sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth as the scent of onion rings and fries wafted onto the street.

“Go home.” She patted his arm, and he let his eyelids flutter closed.

“No, what do I owe you?” he pressed, knowing she’d understand he meant more than for just the meal.

“Are you all right to drive? Or are you too ill from all that heavy, heavy grease weighing like a rock in your stomach?”

His gut churned again as a rogue wave of indigestion hit him starboard side. “You’re mean.”

“As previously established,” she said perkily. “And I learned it from you.”

“Your date...” He gestured to the man who’d just left the diner. Dressed head to foot in dark beige, including shoes, pants, jacket and even a jaunty corduroy hat, it was like he’d stepped out of a sepia photo from the 1800s.

Athena turned, squeezing the man’s elbow. “So lovely to have met you, Glenn.”

He handed over her purse and jacket while Mullens propped himself up against his car. He’d deal with any scratches he made to the paint later. The two murmured something he couldn’t hear, then her date left in a sedan that rattled with a loose muffler.

Mullens noted the lack of a goodbye kiss. The professor hadn’t even tried.

He would have. Always go for the kiss. Especially with a woman like Athena.

She marched back toward Mullens, wetting her lips. After eyeing him carefully, she spun away again, her boots clipping along the sidewalk. “Hang tight,” she called over her shoulder, before disappearing through a doorway that wasn’t the diner’s.

Curious, he drifted after her, stopping outside a small drugstore to wait.

An armadillo waddled out from a narrow space between two buildings and Mullens froze, letting the animal do its thing.

But instead of ignoring him, it came closer, sniffing his right foot before looking up at him with dark beady eyes, then ambling off again.

Athena returned moments later, waving a tube of chewable antacids, she tossed them at his chest. He caught them. Mint.

“I just met an armadillo.”

“Bill? Ornery little critter? Gray? About yay high?” She bent down and held her hand about a foot off the ground. “Probably tried to eat your leg off?”

“Nah. Just sniffed my foot and wandered away.” Mullens unrolled a few antacids. “You were fast. Did you even pay for these?”

“Couldn’t have been Bill the armadillo then. Can you get yourself home?”

“Of course.”

She was frowning down the street, where the armadillo was scurrying after a woman. The tall gal in the cowboy hat let out a squeal and jumped into a hardware store at the end of the block. Athena turned back to him, her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Do you need a barf bucket?”

“I’m fine.” He straightened, realizing he’d been hunching in discomfort.

He chewed and swallowed the minty antacids, feeling they might be the all-important one-thing-too-many of the many, many things he’d eaten tonight.

All of it getting chummy down in no-man's-land.

A fresh wave of nausea was building inside him and he fought against it.

Athena was smirking, clearly very amused by his stupidity.

“You’re laughing at me.” He offered her the package, but she shook her head. “You think I’m an idiot.”

“This…” she drew an air circle around her face, making no effort to hide her amusement “…is actually admiration.”

If he’d been feeling up to it, his pride would be smarting.

Wait. Did she say admiration? For him acting like a total jerk, disrespecting her knowledge and advice, as well as probably prematurely ending her date?

“What are you talking about, Tina?”

“You cling to this identity through thick and thin.” Athena paused a second to school her expression. “And barf.”

Jenny was right. She needed to laugh more. And laughing at Chad, especially when watching him bolt from the diner, had flipped a switch. Turned him from unattainable jock with a gigantic dietary chip on his shoulder to just some guy trying to look cool in front of others.

His flaunting her rules wasn’t personal. It never had been. And now it was all oddly amusing.

“I didn’t vomit.” Chad leaned against his Corvette again, clearly disgusted with himself.

“The fact that you’re so invested in this cool-dude, rule-breaking persona that you’re willing to ralph your guts out on Main Street in front of everyone…” She shook her head, holding back a laugh.

“I didn’t.” He pushed himself off the hood, looking ready to argue.