Ethan looked at the clock on his dashboard. 10:47 p.m. His jeans were still soaked. His shirt was beyond saving. And he probably smelled like wet dog and motor oil.
He typed, "I'll be there in 10 minutes. I'll order coffee. " He started the engine, and this time when the check engine light came on, he just laughed. The diner was called Rosies, and it looked exactly like every other late night Seattle diner. Vinyl booths patched with duct tape, fluorescent lights that hum too loud, a jukebox in the corner that probably hadn't worked since 1987. The smell of coffee and grease hung in the air like a permanent fixture.
Ethan spotted Viven immediately. She was sitting in a corner booth, still wearing the expensive coat, but looking somehow different than she had on the roadside, less guarded maybe, or just exhausted. Her hair was starting to dry, curling slightly at the ends, and she'd wiped away most of her makeup. She looked up when he walked in, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Then she smiled.
A real smile, not the almost smile from earlier. "You made it," she said. Barely. Ethan slid into the booth across from her, very aware of how out of place he probably looked. I should have changed first.
If you'd changed, I would have known you were trying too hard. She pushed a mug of coffee across the table toward him. Black. You seem like a black coffee person. Good guess.
He wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into his cold fingers. So, this is weird, right? Extremely weird, but also kind of perfect. Viven finished. Yeah.
A waitress appeared, looking deeply uninterested in anything except taking their order. What'll it be? Vivien glanced at Ethan. I'm getting a burger. The biggest, greasiest burger they have.
I've been eating salmon and quinoa at business dinners for 3 weeks, and I'm done. Two burgers, Ethan said. And fries. The waitress grunted and disappeared. They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the fluorescent lights filling the space between them.
Outside, rain continued to assault the windows, turning the city into a watercolor blur. "I Googled you," Vivian said finally. Ethan's eyebrows rose. "Yeah. " Cole's Auto Repair, Georgetown District, three-star average on Google. Most complaints about the location and the building condition.
That's fair. The building is a dump. The five-star reviews all say you're the most honest mechanic in Seattle. Those people are lying to make me feel better. Viven laughed, and it was a good sound, genuine.
Do you always deflect compliments? Do you always research people before having coffee with them? Always. She wrapped her hands around her own mug. It's a habit.
Know your opponent before you sit down at the table. Is that what I am? An opponent? I don't know what you are yet. Fair enough.