Don't rush back

You decide there’s no point rushing. The mechanic said it would be a couple of hours anyway, and sitting here watching Kristen move around the diner is a lot more pleasant than staring at the walls back at the shop.

When she comes by to check on you a few minutes later, you give her an easy smile.

“Food’s good,” you say, nodding at your half-finished burger. “Thanks.”

Kristen’s cheeks pink a little at the compliment. “Thanks. My aunt owns the place, so I try to make sure everything’s decent.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, the slightly oversized uniform pulling across her soft chest for a moment before settling again. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

You shake your head. “Just passing through. Car trouble.”

She nods like that makes sense. “Yeah, these back roads will do that to you. You staying out at one of the farms while you get it fixed?”

The question is casual, but there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes when she says “farms.” You don’t think much of it.

“Something like that,” you answer vaguely, not wanting to get into the details of last night. “Just waiting on the tow truck guy to sort it out.”

Kristen opens her mouth like she might say something else, but then another table flags her down. She gives you a small smile and heads off, her hips and ass moving nicely under the pink fabric as she walks away.

You go back to your food, letting your mind wander. Part of you is still replaying that last image of Loretta — the wink, the way she squeezed her tit as the truck pulled away. You could’ve had that. Instead you’re here, making small talk with a chubby waitress in a diner while your car sits in a garage.

Your phone rings a little while later. It’s Miller.

You answer. “Hey, it’s ready?”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Not quite,” the mechanic says, sounding annoyed. “When I got the wheel off I saw the hub’s cracked. Badly. Must’ve happened when the tire blew. I don’t have the part in stock. Gonna have to order it in.”

Your stomach drops a little. “How long’s that gonna take?”

“Best case? Two days. Maybe three if the supplier’s slow. I can get you a loaner car if you need to get around, but you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit.”

You thank him and hang up, staring at your half-empty plate.

Two or three days.

You glance across the diner. Kristen is wiping down a table near the window, bending forward as she works. The uniform rides up slightly in the back, showing more of her thick thighs, and the top gapes just enough to give you another teasing view of her soft cleavage when she straightens up.

She catches you looking and offers a shy little smile before going back to her work.

You’re not going anywhere fast.