Page 6 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

“Hey, I thought it was you,” he says, his voice warm and friendly. “I just wanted to apologize again for earlier. I really didn’t mean to startle you like that.”

I wave him off, forcing a smile. “It’s fine, really. No harm done.”

But Dan’s daughter isn’t so easily dismissed. She peers at me with those big, curious eyes, her head tilted to the side.

“You look really pretty,” she says, her voice so earnest it catches me off guard. “But you also look really sad. Are you okay?”

I blink, taken aback by her perceptiveness. How can this little girl see right through me, when I’ve spent years perfecting my poker face?

“I’m fine, sweetie,” I assure her, my voice a little too bright. “Just a long day, that’s all.”

Dan touches her shoulder, gently steering her towards the door. “Come on, Chloe. Let’s let the lady enjoy her dinner in peace.”

I nod, grateful for the reprieve.

Just then, as Dan reaches for the door handle, there’s a commotion near the counter. An elderly woman, her face pale and drawn, sways on her feet, then crumples to the ground.

“Go take a seat, sweetie, I just need to take care of something.” Dan indicates an empty seat and Chloe follows the instruction.

Instinctively, Dan and I both rush to the woman on the floor. I check for a pulse while Dan calls out for someone to dial 911.

The elderly woman barely has time to gasp before he’s kneeling beside her, his voice low and steady.

“You okay, ma’am? Just stay still for a second, alright?”

There’s something about the way he says it—calm, but firm—that immediately makes people trust him.

She nods, breathless, clutching his arm as he carefully helps her sit up.

The diner staff rush over with concern, offering napkins, ice, the kind of mild panic and random offerings that come when no one’s quite sure what to do.

Dan, though? He’s already taken care of it.

It’s such a small moment. Nothing dramatic, nothing particularly heroic. But as I watch him smooth down the woman’s coat, making sure she’s steady before letting go, it hits me.

This is who he is. The guy who steps in. The guy who cares. Not because there’s anything to gain, not because he expects recognition—just because that’s what you do when someone needs help.

Something tightens in my chest, unexpected and unfamiliar.

I spend my life impressing people. Convincing boardrooms full of skeptical men that I’m worth listening to. Selling ideas, crafting strategies, making sure that when I walk out of a meeting, no one forgets my name.

Dan doesn’t have to do any of that. And yet, somehow, in this tiny, insignificant moment, he’s managed to impress the hell out of me.

Together, Dan and I work to make the woman as comfortable as possible, our movements synchronized and efficient.

With her back now resting against the counter, I roll up a sweater the waitress hands to me into a makeshift pillow and place it behind the woman’s head.

Dan takes one of her hands and holds it in his, letting her know that help is on its way and everything’s going to be okay.

As we wait for the paramedics to arrive, I catch Dan’s eye over the woman’s head. And in that moment, I see something I recognize, something that mirrors my own determination, my own need to help, to fix, to make things right.

“Is she going to be okay?” Chloe asks, her brow furrowed with concern as she looks across from the booth.

“I hope so,” I reply, unsure. “We’ll let the paramedics decide what to do next.”

We lapse into silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavy. Around us, the diner buzzes with anxious energy, the other patrons looking on with worried expressions.

“You know,” Dan says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension, “I never thought I’d be playing hero in a diner on a Sunday night.”

Despite myself, I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, well, I never thought I’d be stranded in Maine, but here we are.”

Dan chuckles, a low, warm sound that seems to ease the tightness in my chest. “Funny how life works out sometimes, isn’t it?”

I nod, my gaze still fixed on the woman’s face. “It’s been a hell of a day, that’s for sure.”

“Tell me about it,” Dan says, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I woke up this morning thinking the biggest challenge I’d face today would be getting Chloe to eat her vegetables.”

I can’t help but laugh at that, a real, genuine laugh that feels foreign and wonderful all at once.

At the sound of her name, Chloe’s head shoots up from her phone like a meerkat. She hops up from the booth and into Dan’s warm embrace.

“Love you, pumpkin. You did good.”

There’s something in his voice, a warmth and sincerity that catches me off guard.

I glance over at him, really seeing him for the first time.

The exhaustion etched into the lines of his face, the love and pride shining in his eyes when he looks at his daughter.

Maybe there’s more to this guy than meets the eye.

More than the harried single dad, more than the small-town motel cleaner.

Dan turns back to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Dan, by the way. This is Chloe.”

“Hi, Dan, yes, you introduced yourself earlier in my room. I’m Rachel.”

“I’m really sorry–”

“It’s ok. Really.” I offer Dan my hand. He smiles and shakes it.

That’s when the sound of sirens fills the air, growing louder with each passing second. Dan and I exchange a glance, relief and anticipation mingling in the space between us.

“Looks like the cavalry’s here,” he says, rising to his feet.

I nod, my heart racing as the paramedics burst through the doors, a flurry of activity and purpose. They take over, their movements practiced and precise, and I step back, letting them do their job.

Dan approaches me as the paramedics wheel the elderly woman out on a gurney and the remaining patrons all settle back down at the tables, now that the show’s over.

“Thanks for your help tonight. You were incredible.”

I brush off the compliment, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, it was nothing. I’m just glad she’s going to be okay.”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It wasn’t nothing. You stayed calm under pressure. That’s pretty cool.”

I feel a blush creeping up my neck, and I glance away.

He huffs a quiet laugh, and Chloe manages a small, wobbly smile. “You were really brave,” she says, her voice soft.

“You too, kiddo. You did great.”

Dan squeezes her shoulder and gives me a nod. “Well… we should probably get going. I need to get her home and settled. But… I hope to see you around?”

I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Just remember to knock.”

He lingers for a second longer, like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods again and steers Chloe toward the door.

I watch them go, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me—relief that the elderly lady is in good hands, and something softer, something I don’t quite know how to define when it comes to Dan.

I turn back to my table, my unfinished chowder now stone cold and completely unappetizing.

I sink onto the seat, letting the adrenaline ebb away, and glance at the mess of napkins and half-eaten food.

I push the bowl away, resting my chin in my hands, but the scene keeps replaying in my mind—the old woman, so pale and fragile, crumpling to the floor.

The waitress reappears with a small smile, breaking me out of my daze. “Hey,” she says gently. “How are you holding up?”

I force a smile, though I’m sure it’s more of a grimace. “Fine. Just… worried about her, I guess.”

She nods, wiping down the table, her movements slower than usual. “You did good, you know. Helping out like that.”

I glance at her, then back at my chowder. “Thanks. Although I think Dan did most of the heavy lifting. I just… followed his lead.”

“Still counts,” she says, giving me a reassuring nod. “You two made a good team.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod and reach for my purse, fishing out some cash to cover the meal. But when I set it down on the table, she waves it off.

“Don’t worry about it. This one’s on us. Least we can do after what you did for Marjorie. She’s a regular here, known her for years. Tough old bird, but her heart’s been giving her trouble lately.”

I push the money toward her anyway, but she just shakes her head firmly. “Keep it. We couldn’t possibly accept.”

With a resigned nod, I slide the cash back into my purse and gather my things. As I head for the door, I glance back at the now-empty spot on the floor where Marjorie had collapsed. It’s like it never happened. Just a normal evening at Julie’s Diner.

Outside, the night air is crisp and cool. I start down the quiet street, heading back toward the motel. My footsteps sound too loud, like they’re interrupting the calm of the night.

I should go to bed. I’m exhausted—mentally and physically—but there’s a nagging knot in my stomach that won’t let go. I can’t just walk away and forget about Marjorie, not when I don’t even know if she’s alright. What if she’s alone in the hospital, scared and confused?

I pause on the sidewalk. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I know. I dig through my bag until I find my phone and look up the nearest hospital with an emergency room. There’s one about fifteen minutes away.

Without giving myself time to overthink it, I pull out the keys to my rental and head back to where it’s parked. The beast of a vehicle is still obnoxiously red, still absurdly large, but at this moment, I don’t care. I just need to make sure Marjorie’s okay.

As I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, I can’t help but think about how utterly exhausting today has been. Nothing’s gone the way I expected. The universe seems hell-bent on throwing curveballs at me, and I’m struggling to keep up.

But at least I can do this. At least I can check on her.