Chapter Eleven
Evie
Dawson pulled up in front of a tiny restaurant tucked between what appeared to be two office buildings. It was a rather nondescript square building with a bright pink sign that read Candy’s Diner.
Bemused, I followed him inside. He held the door for me, his hand sliding down my back as we stepped through. With a coaxing pressure, he angled me toward the corner. Seconds after we slid into a booth, an older woman arrived at the table wearing large pink glasses with her gray hair tied into a bun held in place by a pen stuck through it.
She smiled brightly, pulling a notepad out of her black apron tied over a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. “Well, hey there, Dawson Marsh. You finally brought a date for lunch.”
Dawson’s return smile was wide. “Hey, Candy, this is my
