Pitch Perfect Read Free Page B

to the waitress who hurried over to the scene. “Please bring him a fresh burger and fries.”
    “Not necessary,” he said in the same clipped tone and sopped up the water pooled on the counter.
    “But you haven’t eaten your meal.”
    “No, I mean it’s not necessary for you to pay for it.”
    “I insist!”
    “Okay.” He lifted one shoulder and sat back down just as Mia reached over to brush a remaining ice cube off the shiny red vinyl stool. His butt landed on her hand, making her yelp.
    “Ouch!” Mia yanked hard just as he stood, making her give a hard elbow to the bearded guy to her left. He grunted and sent his grilled cheese sailing over his head and onto the floor just as a waitress hurried by. Her foot slipped on the soft sandwich, causing her tray to tilt. She yelped and jerked the tray upright but overcompensated, sending French fries flying and burgers flipping into the air.
    Mia put a hand to her mouth as the rest of the scene unfolded as if in slow motion . . .
    Two tall milk shakes wobbled back and forth as if swaying to the piped-in music and then tipped forward, sending cherries shooting into the air, followed by a waterfall of chocolate shake spilling to the floor. A busboy rushed forward but slid through the puddle of shake like he was on ice skates and crashed into a seated man, who went from squeezing ketchup onto his onion rings to spattering it into the face of his female companion. She screamed and leaned backward, allowing the red stream to squirt the face of the man directly behind her. He jerked sideways and knocked over all three beverages on his table and sent silverware clanking to the floor.
    And then there was silence . . . well, except for the cheerful sound of the bluegrass music, which seemed to be mocking Mia. She swallowed hard while considering if she should make a mad dash for the front door. While calculating how fast she could actually dash in her chunky shoes she sneaked a peek at the waitress behind the counter, who was swiping at her eyes. Dear God, was she crying? When Mia swiveled her head, she noticed that the belly of the Santa look-alike was
shaking like a bowl full of jelly
, Mia thought with dark humor. Was he crying too?
    Had she reduced an entire lunch crowd to tears?
    “Well, if that just wasn’t the funniest damn thing I’ve witnessed in a long-ass time,” the bearded man said in a deep voice punctuated with bouts of low-pitched laughter. He slapped his thigh. “Don’t that just beat all?” he asked, but Mia avoided his gaze and kept her head down.
    “Don’t I know it,” the waitress agreed and swiped at what Mia realized were tears of laughter. A titter began at the table next to the counter and rolled into full-blown amusement until everyone in the joint was doubled over except, notably, Mr. Tall and Brooding standing next to her. He sat down with an angry plop, folded his arms across his wet chest, and sighed.
    “Just what are you moaning about?” Mia demanded hotly.
    “Oh, let’s see. My ruined lunch.” He glanced down and plucked at his chest. “My sopping shirt and cold crotch.”
    “Oh, stop,” Mia sputtered and pointed to the menu. “Wine . . . and Diner. Without the
h
, so quit your
whining
.”
    He snorted at her sorry attempt at humor. “Really?”
    “Really,” she confirmed close to his ear, since everyone was still laughing and reliving the incident while the busboys mopped up the many messes. “I said I was sorry and that I’d pay for your lunch. I’m at a loss as to what more I can do.”
    “Well, Princess, you need to pay for everyone else’s that you ruined while you’re at it.”
    “Don’t call me princess,” she pleaded. It was her father’s pet name for her, which had been cute when she was a child but had not been so sweet an endearment this past week.
    “Really?” He took his baseball cap off and let his gaze travel down her pale blond hair, over her classy Ralph Lauren white linen shirt and black