Twice Upon a Blue Moon Read Online Free

policy—every painful, humiliating detail—so whatever had her breaking the holiest commandment must have been big.
    “He’s here,” Sadie hissed between clenched teeth, once they were safely inside the kitchen doorway.
    “George Clooney?”
    Through a billowing cloud of steam, Sadie glowered.
    “Jesus?” Hazel guessed, throwing up her hands. “I got nothing.”
    “ Dylan .”
    A cold shiver rippled down Hazel’s spine. She didn’t have to play the ‘Dylan, who?’ charade because one glance at the door confirmed it. Best wasn’t alone this time. Three other men were with him, laughing and talking in too-loud voices as they scrutinized the diner for a free table.
    “You have to take ’em,” Sadie entreated.
    “I do?”
    “I didn’t call .”
    Hazel sighed. “Keep tallying up the IOUs and you’re gonna end up having to murder someone for me just to even up the score.” She picked out four greasy menus. “You bus the corner booth in my section real quick.”
    Sadie bolted like the Energizer bunny.
    “Gentlemen,” Hazel greeted, frosty smile in place. “Welcome to The Last Crab Pub. How many?”
    Dylan turned to face her, eyebrows climbing half an inch up his brow. He was wearing a suit again—ash gray—with a baby-blue tie. He even wore a pocket square. It wouldn’t have surprised Hazel to discover that each individual strand of his shiny raven hair had been painstakingly arranged with tweezers before being gelled in place.
    She wished it left her cold.
    “The Last what?” one of his friends snorted. “Menu reads Marco’s…”
    “Does it?” Hazel feigned surprise. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Sadie making her way out of her section with a thumbs-up. “Huh. How about that? Let me show you to your table.”
    Dylan’s friends fell into step behind her like ducklings in a row.
    “So does that mean you serve seafood?” asked the pedant of the group.
    “No.”
    Hazel stood idly by while they crammed themselves into the vinyl booth. At least two of the men seemed perplexed by their surroundings. Dylan wasn’t among them. The intensity of his stare was beginning to render Hazel uncomfortable, but she couldn’t very well throw him out—or, worse, go to Marco and ask him to do the throwing out. He didn’t usually like to interfere until and unless a client took creepiness to the point of groping.
    She wasn’t going to risk her job for the likes of Dylan Best.
    “No,” Hazel repeated, clearing her throat, “but the pork chops are pretty good. I’ll let you look over the menu.” She couldn’t get away fast enough.
    “So?” Sadie murmured as they convened behind the bar under the guise of passing orders back and forth to the kitchen. “What did he say?”
    “He’s totally heartbroken. Hasn’t slept a day in five weeks.”
    Sadie gave her a playful shove. “You’re the worst. I almost started feeling bad for the guy.”
    “You must not have seen his Rolex.”
    “I’ll make it up to you,” Sadie promised before sauntering away with a tray filled with sweet potato hash, tamales and French fries.
    Out of curiosity, Hazel slanted a glance to Dylan’s table. She wasn’t surprised to find his dark gaze didn’t track Sadie across the diner, but she didn’t know what to do with their eyes locking across the room.
    Dylan cut his eyes away first. It didn’t help.
    He was perfectly cordial when Hazel went to retrieve their drinks order. The rest of his buddies likewise kept to themselves. They went quiet whenever Hazel returned to their table, as though whatever it was they were discussing was too important to let strangers overhear.
    It was a relief to drop off their check an hour later. Whenever she turned back to the room, she couldn’t shake the sense that someone was watching her—and that said someone was Dylan.
    She jumped when she heard him clear his throat from the other side of the counter.
    “Do you take credit cards?” he asked, holding up the