Back to the Good Fortune Diner by Vicki Essex

boring you already?” she asked irately.
    “Actually, yeah, you are.”
    She flinched. She’d heard rude in her life, but she hadn’t expected attitude from Chris’s son.
    “Class doesn’t start till next Monday,” Simon said. “I don’t know why we have to do anything right now.” He tossed his bangs. “Look, I know Dad’s paying you to teach me for two hours, but can we pretend we worked? You can take the rest of the day off and still get paid. I won’t tell anyone.”
    Tiffany scowled at his attempt at manipulation. She couldn’t believe he was already bargaining with her, and using his father’s money, too. “I’m not charging for this time. I drove out here because I wanted to get to know you.”
    His darting look said, Are you serious? “I’m exhausted, ” he groused. “This year was hard enough, and now I have to take an extra six weeks.” He rubbed his temples. “My dad’s the one making me do this. I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s going to help.”
    “All right.” She picked up her purse. “If you don’t want to do this, fine. I’ll let your father know you don’t need me.” She started toward the door. “I didn’t think you’d give up before we’d even started, though.”
    “I’m not giving up,” he shot back, voice rising in panic. She stopped in her tracks. He added hastily, “I just don’t want to do this right now. ”
    Those were the words she wanted to hear. Anything that told her he wanted something, that he was not simply playing the victim. If there was one thing she hated, it was people who blamed everyone and everything but themselves for their problems and refused to do anything about them.
    “It’s your call,” she said, folding her arms. “You set the schedule. I’m here for you.”
    Simon stuffed his fists into his hoodie pockets, shuffling in place. “I start class next Monday. I’m done at three-thirty.”
    “I’ll see you here at four, then.”
    The front door crashed open. Chris’s broad, tall frame filled the doorway, eyes landing squarely on her. Mud caked his jeans, and the strong musk of male sweat filled the room. “I was hoping I’d catch you in time.” He beamed. “Had to rush back here to see you.”
    Her insides flipped and she struggled to keep from breaking into a goofy grin. “Was there something you needed?” she asked to stop herself from making ridiculous assumptions.
    “Thought we might talk about how I’m going to pay you. Business stuff.” He yanked off his wide-brimmed cowboy hat, running a muscled forearm across his brow. His arm halted in midswipe and he made a face. “Sorry, I’m not smelling too fresh.” He gestured vaguely out the door. “How about we stand on the porch? I promise I’ll stay downwind.”
    She didn’t care how he smelled. She was still trying to get over how good he looked covered in sweat and mud, his golden skin below the T-shirt sleeves lobster-red. “You should be wearing more sunscreen,” she remarked when they were outside.
    He glanced at his arms and smirked. “This’ll go away. I usually work with long sleeves, but it’s been so hot lately, I can’t stand it. Most of the time, I have to go shirtless. Not to be vain, but I hate farmers’ tans.”
    Tiffany’s brain went into meltdown. She looked away forcefully, afraid she’d end up burning a hole into his chest with her staring. She watched the horses in the field, letting herself cool off at the sight of those graceful, powerful beasts.
    “Those yours?” she asked.
    “The horses? No, we board them for their owners. The extra income is handy, and the manure we get makes quality composted fertilizer.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You used to like horses a lot. I remember you had drawings of them all over your notebooks.”
    Her cheeks flushed anew. He’d remembered that? “I think they’re beautiful animals.”
    “Do you ride?”
    “Never tried.”
    “You lived in Everville and never went horseback