“How’s it going at the O.K. Corral?” Dani asks at the prep counter.

“I’d rather be at Baylor’s falling on my ass in front of the Wolves.” I spread a generous pile of buttercream on a cupcake.

“Still crushing on the hockey boy, then?”

I flick a gob of frosting at her boob. “Shut up!”

She scrapes it off with her finger and points it at my chest. “You’re into him. I can tell—your vibe is totally different when you’re into someone.”

“How would you know what my ‘into someone’ vibe is? I haven’t had a boyfriend the whole time I’ve known you. Not to mention ever.”

“What about—”

“If you bring up Will and that party again, I’ll kill you with this spatula and make it look like an accident. And before you say another word, making out with a cardboard Johnny Depp at the movie theater on a dare doesn’t count, either.”

“I’ve got the Johnny pictures to prove it. Remember that.” Dani laughs as her gaze shifts to the window over the grill. “Hold up—isn’t that Josh Blackthorn?”

“Where?” I whip my head around as my icing-smudged hands rapidly smooth out my dress. But Josh isn’t there—just Cowboy reading the paper at table seven and frat guys pointing at their empty eggnog glasses again.

“Wow,” Dani says. “You walked right into that one.”

I pour a fresh round of nogs and arrange them on a serving tray. “I hate you.”

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t rule out any possibilities. You never know when love might find you.”

“Yeah, in between the pages of The Swashbuckling Adventures of Naked Pirates. Speaking of Johnny Depp.”

“Waffles up, Danicakes,” Trick says.

“Laugh it up, go ahead.” Dani grabs two plates of blueberry Belgian waffles and a side of bacon and nudges the kitchen doors with her foot.

“See, hon,” Trick says, “guys are like … well, take this here.” He grabs a peeled white onion, pointing at it with his giant knife. “Lots of layers, and—”

“How’s my omelet working, Dr. Ruth?”

Trick smiles, chopping up the onion into fine little bits. “Five minutes. Hey, we’re out of the ham quiche. Change the specials board to broccoli and cheese—we gotta move these greens before they die.”

“You got it.” One less pork product in the atmosphere is always a good thing.

After I deliver those nogs, Dani drags me behind the dining room counter. “You’re not gonna believe this, but Josh is here for real. I saw him in the parking lot.”

“That so?” I grab the whiteboard from the wall at the end of the counter and redo the quiche. “What a fascinating coincidence.”

“I’m not kidding. He’s already at the front door.”

“Danielle Bozeman, you are high-larious.” I crouch down to shove the dry-erase markers back under the counter. “Like Josh doesn’t have anything better to do than check me out in my bangin’ Hurley Girl dress.”

“Apparently not, because he’s headed right for you,” she singsongs.

“Oh yeah?” No one is seated at the counter, so I bend down a little farther and shake-shake-shake it. “How do I look? Think Josh has a good view of the show?”

“Perfect. I didn’t even have to buy tickets.”

Um … why does Dani suddenly sound like a dude?

“He’s really here, isn’t he?” I whisper out of the corner of my mouth. Dani nods, barely keeping it together as she slips back into the kitchen. Deserter!

I reach for a mug from the coffee station over my head. In a single swoop, I stand, grab the pot, and turn around, offering it to Josh with a bright, wide grin. “Hi, Josh! Coffee?”

He smiles. “Love some.”

“How do you take it?”

“Hot. I mean, cream. No sugar.” He parks himself at one of the counter stools and strips off his hat and scarf, hair sticking out funny in all the usual places. “So, was that little dance part of the two-two-two breakfast special?”

“Hudson!” Trick shouts through the window over the grill, just in time. “Bug’s here. I’m sending him out with your western.”

Bug pushes his way through the doors and passes me the hot plate. “Order up!”

“Thanks, kiddo.” I smile at Josh. “Josh? Bug. Bug? Josh. Be right back.”

Over at table seven, Cowboy’s got his fork in the eggs before I’ve even set the plate down. Through a mouthful of breakfast, he scowls at me and rolls his eyes.

“Darlin’,” he says, swallowing after the fact. “I know you’re new round here. But I ordered a bacon and cheese omelet, and you brought me a westernized omelet.” He hooks his arm around my waist, the food-coated fork still dangling from his fingers.

“But you ordered the western, sir.”

“Miss, can we get some coffees?” A woman calls from the next-door booth. “We’ve been here five minutes already.”

“Be right with you, ma’am.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“What I wanted,” Cowboy drawls on, “was the bacon and cheese.”

“We’ll remake it for you.” I reach over to take the western plate, but he grabs it out of my hands, fingers lingering on my skin. Gross.

“No use letting it go to waste,” he says. “Just take it off my bill. I’m gonna need a regular coffee, too.” He swirls his empty mug. “The one you gave me was decaf.”

I look at him dubiously. You know the old saying—never trust a man wearing assless leather chaps in the snowbelt. Still, no point in arguing. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you much, sweet thing.” He winks at me and clicks his tongue. Dani was so not kidding about this guy. And for a lousy one-dollar tip? Speaking of tips, here’s a hot one, Cowboy: Don’t piss off the girl responsible for serving your food. A lot can happen on that long, lonely stretch of road from the kitchen to your cozy little booth by the window. Just saying.

“My pleasure, sir.” I smile and refill his mug with leaded coffee, pour some for the cranky booth lady, then scoot back to the front counter, where Bug is laughing it up with the hockey boy.

“I see you like my friend,” I say to Bug.

“Friend?” Bug leans across the counter and squinches up his face. “Or friend with benefits?”

“Bug! Where did you—”

“Mrs. Ferris has cable.”

“Now you know why we don’t.” I top off Josh’s coffee and snag a cupcake from the bakery case for my brother.

“Because they took away the box when Mom didn’t pay the—”

“Look, a Cookies-N-Creamcake,” I say. “Yum!”

He jams a bite in. “Anyway,” he says through a chocolaty mouthful, “if someone was my friend with benefits, I could get them free fries. And you make the best cupcakes ever, so I definitely see that as a benefit.”

“Got a point there, man.” Josh gives him a fist-bump. My brother. Josh. Together. Joking around. I think the planet is seriously falling out of orbit.

“Don’t encourage him,” I say. “It’s bad enough he—”

“Waitress? Can we get some more coffee?” Cranky booth lady again.

“Gotta go.” I kiss Bug on the forehead and zip over to refill those mugs as Dani seats three more tables. On my way back, Cowboy waves me over.

“Can I get a little more water, toots?” His hand slips out from beneath the table and makes a beeline for my ass. I lean forward instinctively, still rockin’ that happy-to-serve-you grin, water pitcher balanced precariously over his lap—the parts those fashionable leather chaps don’t cover. Tricky thing, this balancing stuff.

“Oops! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry about that! Here’s a few extra napkins.” Before he can demand help cleaning up his pants, I run back to the kitchen with the empty water pitcher, nearly crashing into Mom.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” she asks.

The pitcher hits the counter with a crash. “Cowboy out there is one grab away from a restraining order. And why are people so impatient around here? Can’t they see we’re busy? Like I was just put on this earth to fetch drinks, you dumb—”

“It’s the diner biz, hon. Difficult customers are just part of the deal.” Mom sighs. “Better get used to it.”