Ryker James seemed hell-bent on being more than just Emmie's customer. First, he left her a twenty dollar tip even though all she'd done was drop a plate of food on his table. Then, he showed up right after the diner closed several hours later, claiming that it was for a reason other than to see her.

"I'm here to pick up my grandmother." He flashed her that dimpled smile of his and then brushed past her on the way to the booth his grandma sat in as she reconciled the diner's accounts. "She likes it when I walk her home."

Iola seemed surprised to see her grandson. "Ryker, dear." She bent her head so that Ryker could place a kiss on her cheek. "Didn't we just see you for lunch? What are you doing back here?"

Emmie, who was busy refilling the salt and pepper shakers and collecting the ketchup bottles from the tables, glanced up long enough to see Ryker's cheeks flush.

"It's a sunny day. I thought we'd walk through the park on the way back to your house."

"Well, now, that is a thought." She patted his arm and then went back to counting the money from the till. "I brought my car today, though. It's chilly out there, sun or not. Besides, I have another hour's worth of work to do here. And then I'm off to Zumba, just like every Monday. You know I never miss that!"

Emmie suppressed a laugh. The golden boy, stood up by a woman approaching octogenarian status who preferred spending her afternoon at Zumba than with him. She continued with her tasks, eager to finish so that she could head home. Trisha had already left to take her son to his violin lesson and without her there, Emmie felt ungrounded, especially now that Ryker had made a surprise reappearance.

"Ryker!" Iola's eyes slid over to where Emmie stood with her tray of ketchup. "Why don't you take Miss Marsden to the park instead? She's new in town and probably has never seen it. Why, maybe you could even walk her down to the waterfront."

Ryker held up his hands in protest, but his expression said Iola had played right into his plans. "I don't know, Gran. I'm sure Emmie is tired after working all day."

"Nonsense! Besides, what better way to get to know the town than on the arm of its most famous son?"

Emmie scanned the restaurant, wishing there was a way she could sink under a table or disappear into one of the old photographs on the wall. Did she have any say in where she went after work today?

Just as she was about to tell them that yes she was tired and no she didn't want to learn about the town from its most arrogant offspring, she lost control of her tray of ketchup, which tilted and slipped out of her hands. It crashed to the floor, taking a dozen glass bottles with it.

The tile in front of her resembled a model volcano after it had exploded. Rivulets of tomato-based lava snaked outward between shards of glass. "Oh no!" Emmie stepped carefully around the catastrophe. "Iola, is there a broom in the back closet?"

"Yes, dear. And a mop too." Iola dumped several stacks of money into a dark blue bank envelop. She nudged Ryker. "Well, don't just stand there, doofus, help her out!"

As though his grandmother's touch had an electrical charge, Ryker jolted forward in time to lead Emmie to the broom closet.

"I could have gotten it, you know. I don't need help lifting a broom."

Ryker laughed. "No, but it's quite a mess out there. And if Gran says I should help. I help."

"And if Gran says you should accompany me around town..."

He opened the closet door and pulled out a large push broom. "Then I really must do what she says. She's the final authority here." He handed her the broom, then grabbed a metal dustpan.

She tried to take it from him but he snatched it away. "I'm helping, remember? You sweep, I'll catch."

Emmie sighed. "Fine. But that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere with you."

Ryker didn't say a word. Instead, as his eyes bored into hers, she imagined what he was thinking. She'd bend. She'd change her mind. What woman wouldn't? He was handsome and rich. For crying out loud, he doted on his grandmother. He must only know too well that he was most girls' idea of a catch. But the newly minted Emmie Marsden wasn't most girls. What bothered her more than anything was that he seemed to assume she would swoon at the mere sight of him, that fawning over Ryker was like a default setting in every woman's mind.

Well... not this woman's.

She would allow him to help her clean up the mess but that would be that. She'd have to put her foot down somewhere. No matter that she might have liked to put her foot down on his bare backside as she wrapped her legs around his....

Her face burned. Where had that thought come from? She'd just told herself she didn't want to be one of those pathetic girls with a crush on the town's most eligible bachelor and now here she was, fantasizing about having him on top of her. Naked.

She nearly dropped the broom.

"Emmie? Earth to Emmie." Ryker stood in front of her, waving the dustpan back and forth as though it was a palm leaf and she was an ancient Egyptian princess.

She shook herself. "Right. I'll sweep, you catch. Let's do this."

It took a good ten minutes to rid the floor of the mess Emmie had created. Iola assured her they had extra ketchup bottles to replace the ones that had broken. It was no big deal. Besides, if something didn't break your first day waitressing, well... it was simply bad luck.

Emmie suspected Iola was making that last bit up so that she'd feel better. It was a kind gesture, though. She could almost forgive her for trying to thrust Ryker onto her.

Ryker took off for the back alley in order to throw out a ketchup and glass-filled garbage bag. This was her chance to escape. She hurried to the coat rack, threw on her puffy winter jacket and brought her cabled wool cap down over her ears. She was just about to scoot out the door when she heard Ryker shout from the back of the diner. "Gran? I need a bandage. And possibly a few stitches."

"What?" Both women cried out in unison.

Iola motioned for her to come, and with that, Emmie's hopes of leaving undetected were dashed. She followed Iola to the back doorway, where Ryker stood holding up a bright red hand.

"It's not ketchup, trust me." A gash on the side of his palm nearly an inch long dripped blood down his wrist. "The bag tore open. Do I need to go to the hospital?"

"Oh, you big baby! You can figure out how to build a helper robot for old people but you can't even take the trash out without it ending in calamity." Iola shuffled into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a first aid kit. "Come here, let me see."

Ryker complied and Iola examined the cut.

"It's not that deep. I can fix you up myself as long as it doesn't make me late for Zumba."

She sat Ryker on a stool. "Emmie, go get a couple of our cloth napkins. Then fill a bowl with hot water."

The two women proceeded to play nursemaid, Emmie cleaning the wound and wiping blood while Iola prepared to dress it. "Are we out of gauze?" Iola searched the kit for it. "Hold on, I've got another kit in the trunk of my car. I'll be right back."

Emmie rinsed a napkin and raised it to Ryker's palm. She had to admit, she found something that Iola had mentioned in passing about her grandson quite intriguing. The smartest thing to do would be to keep quiet; asking him anything about himself would open up a door he'd be only too willing to step through. Finally, though, curiosity got the best of her.

"Your grandmother said something about helper robots. Is that what your company makes?"

Ryker nodded. "We work on assistant technology of all sorts, but we specialize in personal aide robotics designed to help the elderly and disabled people lead more independent lives."

"So, like... Rosie the robot housekeeper in the Jetsons, if Mr. and Mrs. Jetson had been wheelchair bound?"

He laughed. "Something like that. But UMA will look and act much more human-like than Rosie. That's what we're working towards. She's got some high bars to clear."

"She's... a she? Named UMA?"

"Ultimate Machine Assistant. UMA for short. People are more accepting of a robot with human characteristics, and they find a female voice to be more soothing than a male's. So UMA has been designed to resemble a woman. She's the wave of the future, and I'm trying to make the future our present. We're in the final stages of development."

"Wow, that's..." Impressive. It really was, as much as she hated to admit it. If all of this was true, at least Ryker James had a concrete reason to be so cocky. Not that it made that particular trait any less annoying.

She glanced at the napkin pressed between their hands. Was UMA programmed to administer first aid? If so, they could have used her right now. "You're still bleeding."

It was alarming how much blood could escape such a small cut. Just as alarming was Ryker's gaze as she held the cloth to his hand. Warm fingers bent down to clasp onto hers. Despite the fact that this contact wasn't exactly unpleasant, she narrowed her eyes. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you, Ryker?"

"Immensely. Well, aside from the stabbing pain in my palm. It's worth it though."

"Why's that?"

"Now you'll have to take that walk my grandmother proposed."

"How do you figure?"

He wiggled the fingers of his wounded hand. "I'm bleeding... all because of you."

"Because of me?" Super cool robot inventor or not, this guy really was full of himself.

"Yes, if you hadn't broken those containers, I wouldn't have stabbed myself. You've wounded me, Emmie." He held his uninjured hand up to his chest for effect. "But you can still redeem yourself."

Unbelievable. "The only reason I spilled that tray and broke those bottles was because you and your grandmother were talking about me like I wasn't even there. You made me nervous."

"Nervous? Or excited?"

"Ugh!" She slipped her hand out of the cloth and away from Ryker's grasp. "See you around, Ryker."

"Emmie, wait!"

Just as Emmie reached the diner's threshold, Iola reappeared. "You heading out, dear?"

"Yes, I... I forgot I have an errand to run. I'll see you in the morning."

Iola smiled kindly. "Of course. See you then."

By that point, Ryker had appeared next to his grandmother's side, ready to follow Emmie out the door. Iola placed a hand on his chest. "Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet."

A/N: The picture above is the boardwalk in Florence, Oregon, not far from where I imagine our fictional town of Moon Beach would be. Perhaps Emmie will find herself walking along a pathway like this one soon...

What do you think of the family matriarch, Iola? Isn't she a hoot? For all of Ryker's assholery, he genuinely loves his gran, who is also the one who raised him.

Thanks for your readership, votes and comments, you lovely people you! Today's votes will go to replenishing Iola's first aid kits. You never know how many times Emmie is going to break things and Iola likes to be prepared. Oh, speaking of Iola: I know you were on the edge of your seat waiting to hear if Ryker's brush with death ruined Iola's plans for the evening, but I'm pleased to inform you that she does indeed make it to Zumba class on time. Bullet dodged.

Today's dedication is for my dear friend, Monrosey. She is a fellow member of my Wattpadres writing group, writes romance, paranormal, mystery/thriller, and all sorts of awesomeness, and has a book coming out next year on Kensington Press. That book, STRAWBERRY WINE, which won the Write Affair contest, is up on Darly's profile now. What are you waiting for... go and read it!