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the door.
    “This isn’t embarrassing at all,” I mutter. Startled by his sudden jog down the porch steps, I fling my arms around his neck.
    “Don’t worry,”—he smiles at me—“I have you.”
    “I’d let him cart me off anywhere he wants to go,” a young woman remarks as Cooper carries me through a group of people.
    “Hear that?” He arches his eyebrows at me.
    “The question is why are you doing this?”
    He deposits me at Lauren’s car which is only a few feet from his bike.
    “I’m doing this so you don’t make a mistake,” he replies, opening the passenger door for me.
    “What did I miss?” Lauren shoves her cell phone in her pocket.
    “You need to take Imogene home. She’s had enough to drink, and she shouldn’t be anywhere near Anton.”
    “I had two sips of beer. I’m painfully sober, and I was only talking to the guy. Who made you the dating guru?” I refuse to sit in the car, so I edge away from the door.
    “The last party I saw you at, you jumped me.” He puts his hands on either side of me, against the car’s roof. “I would hate to see you mistake Anton for me.”
    “Oh, snap,” Lauren says dryly, adding a belated snap for effect. “I’m getting really bored with this tug of war you two keep playing. Get in the car, Imogene. We’ll go pick up a pizza.” Lauren slides in and starts the engine.
    “I have to go to The Rack to make sure Leo isn’t getting clobbered by sore losers, so please get in the car,” Cooper insists.
    “I’m only going because Lauren wants to leave, and I would hate for Leo to be pinned to the dart board by angry bikers.”
    “You’re so thoughtful.” He smiles and leans in closer to kiss my cheek. “And, I am jealous enough to make you leave this party. Anything to keep you away from Asshole Anton. I don’t trust him.”
    “And I’m not sure I trust you.”
    Cooper steps back. “I’m going to work on that, but you have to give me a chance and stop comparing me to other guys.”
    After I slink into my seat and reach for the door, he doesn’t let me close it until he gets in the last word. “And maybe you could stop pretending that I’m invisible when you see me at the diner.” He winks and then closes the door.
    As we drive away, I watch him put on his helmet and straddle his bike. Before we make it out of the long driveway, Cooper’s bike roars ahead of us and loses us on the road home.

 
     
     
    Five
     
    “I can’t do this much longer,” I remind my mother as she gathers laminated menus together.
    We’re standing behind the long counter, scanning the packed diner. I am, of course, ignoring my tables. I assume they have everything they need, and my regulars are used to my lollygagging lately. The tourists are probably scouring their table for a comment card, something where they can post a lengthy write-up on their inattentive, smart-mouthed waitress. Fortunately, thanks to me, those wretched, little opinion cards had a sad little mishap one day when the whole box of freshly-shrink wrapped cards ended up in the dumpster out back under a pile of discarded produce. Also, my tables are mysteriously missing all of the paper muffin cups we fill with peppermints for the customers.
    My parents and grandmother are hopeful that I’ll power through this mean phase of mine and either become my usual, crusty self or have a financial boon with the Imogene & Lauren business, enough so that I can hand in my resignation.
    “I know it’s hard for you,” my mother says, “but until the other girls can pick up the full-time hours and your business takes off, these are the breaks, sweetie. Now get to work.” She swats my ass with the menus and heads back to the hostess stand.
    “Oh, crap,” I groan as I watch my section fill up. “I’m so tired of this and so bad at it. I should be fired,” I say to Kelly and Samantha, the two high school girls sitting at the counter.
    “How is your jewelry business going?” Samantha asks as she slurps