Baby, Don't Go

by Stephanie Bond

  Marcus sent a glare his way, too. “If I have to box your ears right here in public, I will.”

  Kendall laughed. “Relax, Marcus. We’re just giving you a hard time. We’re glad you took over this place.”

  Porter made a rueful noise. “Molly, on the other hand…”

  Marcus sighed. “How is she?”

  “She’s stubborn, like you. She’s working in the lost and found warehouse, sure that you’ll come crawling back when you get fed up.”

  Remorse shot through Marcus—he felt indebted to Molly for her loyalty, but he’d given her as much leeway as he could to make the transition from running a military-inspired mess hall to running a civilian-friendly diner. He’d have to figure out a way to make it up to her.

  Alicia walked up holding the glass coffeepot. “Coffee?” she asked his brothers.

  They turned over the clean coffee cups sitting on the counter in front of them.

  “Sure.”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  They both seemed wary of the coffee and intrigued by his new manager at the same time. He could see they were brimming with questions.

  “I’m Alicia Waters,” she offered with a smile that she’d never extended to him.

  “Porter Armstrong.”

  “Kendall Armstrong.”

  “The boss’s brothers?” she asked.

  Porter arched an eyebrow in his direction and Kendall wiped away a smile with his hand. “Yes, we’re the boss’s brothers.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said.

  “Same here.”

  “Likewise.”

  She walked away and both men pushed away their coffee cups.

  “Go ahead, take a drink,” Marcus encouraged.

  Porter held up his hand. “No, thanks. The last time I drank coffee in here, it took the hide off my tongue.”

  “Ditto,” Kendall said. “My mouth was numb for a week.”

  “Just try it,” Marcus said.

  Porter reluctantly lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. Then his eyes widened. “Not bad.”

  Kendall took a drink and nodded. “Not bad at all.”

  “So the coffee has improved dramatically since yesterday,” Porter said. “How about the food?”

  “See for yourself,” Marcus said, waving toward the blackboard where Alicia had written the most popular items from the menu.

  Porter lifted his hand. “No, thanks. I had breakfast with Nikki at the boardinghouse.”

  “I already ate, too,” Kendall said.

  They exchanged a quick glance and when Marcus realized what it meant, annoyance flashed in his chest. They felt sorry for him, sorry that they had someone to eat breakfast with and he didn’t.

  “But I could probably choke down a biscuit,” Porter added quickly.

  “Or an egg,” Kendall offered.

  Marcus frowned. “Never mind. You can get something later.”

  Porter took another sip of his coffee. “So…how’s your new cook working out?”

  “Fine.”

  “She’s cute,” Kendall said.

  “Is she?” Marcus said idly.

  Porter laughed. “Marcus, I know you haven’t been in the company of a woman in…well, I won’t embarrass you with the truth, but have you gone completely blind?”

  Marcus gritted his teeth. “No, but considering you’re practically engaged, you should be.”

  Porter scoffed. “Nikki’s the only one for me.” Then he set down his cup. “But that reminds me…I got a call from Emory Maxwell last night.”

  “Emory?” Porter’s former Army buddy had been in Sweetness on leave with Porter when the devastating tornado had hit over a decade ago. Emory had been the one who’d sounded the warning siren from the water tower. “What’s he up to?”

  “Still living in Florida. He and Shelby are coming back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend. His dad is coming, too.”

  Marcus smiled. “That’s good. It’ll be nice to see them all.”

  Porter made a rueful noise. “Emory and Shelby are going through a rough patch. He said they’ve been trying to have a baby for a while now, and it’s really wearing on their marriage. He asked if they could renew their vows in our church.”

  Marcus pursed his mouth. “Will it be ready?”

  “If the fabricator delivers the sections next week as scheduled, then yeah, it should be. I’m putting out feelers for a minister to come and conduct services that weekend.”

  “I think it would be a fitting ceremony,” Marcus said. “Of course they can use the church.”

  Porter nodded. “I agree. Especially since their first wedding had to be held down by the creek after the tornado. Did you know the town gave them wedding rings?”

  “It was the least the town council could do,” Kendall said. “Who knows how many lives Emory saved when he sounded that alarm.”

  “You should let Rachel know about the ceremony,” Marcus added. “It sounds like the kind of thing she’d make a big deal over, get the whole town involved.”

  “While we’re on the subject, when are you going to get that Homecoming banner hung across Main Street?” Kendall asked.

  “Soon,” Marcus said. “I think things here are under control enough for me to leave the new manager in charge.”

  “Molly will hate to hear that,” Porter said with a smirk.

  “Speak of the devil,” Kendall murmured.

  Marcus looked up to see Colonel Molly walk in. She gave them a smug smile as she hefted her considerable girth onto the stool next to Kendall.

  “Good morning, boys.”

  “Good morning,” they chorused.

  “So, jarhead, how’s your new manager working out?” Molly asked Marcus, nodding toward Alicia.

  He turned to look at Alicia to make sure she wasn’t on fire. She wasn’t, but she was still working those short shorts. He turned back. “Fine,” he said with more bravado than he felt. “She has a lot of experience running a restaurant.”

  “You don’t say?” Molly asked mildly.

  “And she has a lot of ideas to improve profitability,” he lied.

  Molly nodded, although she still looked unconvinced. “Good for you.”

  “Yes, good for me,” he said, crossing his arms. But his bluster was shattered by a familiar whooshing noise behind him.

  “Fire!” Alicia shouted.

  He was jolted as she backed into him. He acknowledged a disturbing twinge from the contact before bumping into a stack of glasses on the counter that fell to the floor in a deafening crash. Flames encompassed the grill. He set Alicia aside and reached for one of the three fire extinguishers lined up under the counter. After stepping over the pile of glass, he pulled the key from the extinguisher, and foamed the fire until it was out.

  He grunted, then turned a frustrated glare toward Alicia. “What happened?”

  She gave him a sheepish shrug.

  He took one step toward her, not sure what he would do when he got there, and his feet flew out from under him. He landed on his back on the hard tile floor, the wind knocked out of him. When he opened his eyes, Alicia peered down, along with Porter, Kendall and Molly, who had all stretched over the counter.

  “Are you okay?” Alicia asked, her dark eyes wide and innocent.

  He wanted to answer, but his lungs had compressed. Plus he had the insane urge to pull her down on top of him.

  “Yes, I can see your new manager has everything under control,” Molly said, her expression gloating.

  In his head, Marcus unleashed a string of curses. Alicia Waters had caused him nothing but grief since he set eyes on her. He opened his mouth and dragged in a painful breath. “Everybody out,” he announced where he lay. “We’re closed for the day.”

  He and his new manager needed to have a little one-on-one training time.

  9

  Alicia watched as Marcus shepherded the waitresses toward the door. “Thanks for cleaning up. We’ll reopen Monday morning. Don’t forget to spread the word abou
t the cook’s position.” He closed the door behind them and turned the dead bolt.

  The clicking noise sent a little thrill through her chest—being locked in with Marcus Armstrong would be a great opportunity to pick his chauvinistic brain.

  As far as feeling a little light-headed, she attributed it to not having had anything to eat. The smell of all the fried food on top of an empty stomach was making her queasy.

  With his back to her, Marcus put his hands on his hips and heaved a huge sigh. Alicia frowned. It wasn’t as if the man had people lining up to cook for him—he should be grateful she’d work in his dinky little diner!

  He finally turned to look at her, then pulled his hand down his face.

  She glared. “If you’re going to fire me, then do it.”

  He settled his blue-eyed gaze on her and walked closer. “I can’t—” He stopped. “I mean, I’m not going to fire you. It’s my fault for expecting you to just walk in and know what you’re doing.”

  Alicia crossed her arms. “Is that supposed to be some kind of back-handed apology?”

  He straightened. “No.” Then pain flashed across his face and he gasped, putting his hand to his back.

  Contrite for setting off the events that led to his fall, she hurried toward him. “Are you okay?”

  He held up his hand, as if she were a contagion. “Just a pulled muscle. I’ll live.”

  She winced. “Sorry.”

  He didn’t look to be in a forgiving mood. “Forget it. Let’s just go over some things so Monday we can get through a full day of business with no mishaps. The Department of Energy rep will be here any day for another inspection, and the diner needs to be ready.” His brows furrowed. “In other words, not burned to the ground.”

  A sharp retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she held it, reminding herself to act as if she wanted this job. So she simply inclined her head in concession, although the gesture sent her blood pressure skyrocketing.

  “Chances are,” he continued, “my brothers or I will be with the inspector, but in case he stops by on his own, you should know what to expect.”

  “What will the representative be looking for?”

  “Mostly, how we’re composting our leftover food and handling the recycling of our grease.”

  She made a face. “Okay.”

  “Follow me.” He lifted a stainless steel bucket of grease from the side of the grill by its handle, then with his other hand, rolled a large trash container marked “Food Only—No Meat” toward the rear door.

  “I can get one of those,” she offered, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard her.

  She pursed her mouth. If the man with the gimpy back wanted to go all Southern macho on her, then she’d let him. She smirked as he wrestled with the door while trying to manage the two containers. From his jerky body language, it seemed as if his mood was rapidly eroding. She followed him outside, at a distance.

  Next to the building sat two large plastic trash bins and a caged barrel. The midday sun was high and brutal. The humidity was cloying. Clumps of gnats hung in the air.

  She shielded her eyes and watched as Marcus stabilized the food container and set down the vat of oil.

  “This is our grease collector,” he said as he unwound a big elastic cord that held the cage door closed. Then he had to use both hands to lift a metal arm and open the door to the wire enclosure.

  “Why all the security?” she asked.

  “To keep the bears out.”

  She blanched. “Bears?”

  He nodded. “Finding a big barrel of grease would be like hitting the jackpot for a mother bear. So it’s important we keep this area clean and secure.”

  While he lifted the barrel lid and carefully poured in the used grease, Alicia walked closer to him and glanced all around. Now she had to add bears to the list of things to look out for? “What happens to the grease—assuming a bear doesn’t get it?”

  “A company comes to pick up the barrel once every couple of weeks, then it’s turned into biodiesel fuel,” he explained as he resecured the barrel. “We’re actually in talks with the company to enter into a partnership if the town moves forward.”

  She frowned. “If?”

  He frowned back as he closed the cage door. “I meant when the town moves forward and we have more collection sources. For now there’s only the diner and the school cafeteria.” He turned toward the two larger containers. “These are the compost bins. The one with the red flag is always the active bin.”

  She was almost afraid to ask. “Active?”

  He lifted the lid of the “active” bin and a horrific smell hit her, sending her staggering backward.

  Alicia covered her mouth. “Oh…my…word.”

  “It gets ripe,” he agreed. “The heat and the mealworms break down everything pretty quickly.”

  “Mealworms?”

  He pointed inside the bin.

  Still holding her nose, she gingerly stepped forward and looked inside to see the food waste crawling with small, pale worms. She recoiled and put her other hand on her stomach. Bears…worms…this was a world away from her life in Manhattan. Marcus Armstrong, however, seemed impervious to the stench…and completely at ease with the potential danger all around.

  He picked up the container holding the day’s worth of scraps and dumped it inside, although she could tell from his grunt that the movement hurt his back. But Alicia was too distracted by the display of impressive arm muscle to sympathize with other parts of his body. The man was built like a… What was the phrase?

  A brick outhouse. She finally understood what the Southern saying meant.

  “This container is too heavy for you and the other girls,” he said matter-of-factly. “Two busboys start on Monday, so ask one of them to empty it for you.”

  Her chin went up at being referred to as a girl. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  His mouth went flat as he surveyed her up and down. “Suit yourself.”

  His gaze left her burning in its wake. She suddenly didn’t feel very strong at all.

  “After something new is added to the compost bin,” he continued, “close the lid tight, then give it a stir.” He cranked the large handle on the side.

  She imagined the steamy worm stew inside and bile backed up in her throat.

  “You okay?” he asked, his expression slightly mocking.

  She swallowed hard. “Sure. What happens to the contents?”

  “The bins are delivered to the garden for fertilizer.”

  “That makes sense.” But ecology was a stinky, sloppy business. She preferred recycling “lite”—using eco-friendly shopping bags over plastic, and collecting newspapers.

  He used a water hose to rinse the inside of the food container, then left it upside down to dry. Then he picked up the empty grease bucket and led the way back inside, moving slowly. He set the bucket on the conveyor belt for the industrial dishwasher. Again, he grunted and put his hand to his back.

  “I have some over-the-counter painkillers in my purse,” she offered.

  He waved her off. “Time for a lesson in fire safety.”

  She bit her lip. “Will I be tested afterward?”

  He leveled his gaze on her. “Let’s hope not.” He walked over to the grill and gestured to the surface temperature gauge. “The flashpoint of vegetable oil is just over six hundred degrees. The good news is it starts smoking before it bursts into flames, so you should have plenty of warning.”

  Alicia nodded, faking ignorance. What good would it do to tell him she knew vegetable oil smoked before it combusted? It didn’t seem to matter. She’d read somewhere that some people attracted lightning strikes; she’d decided that she attracted fire.

  “So as long as you keep the grill surface below six hundred degrees and keep the grill area free of flammable items like menus and napkins,” Marcus said, “you should be…fine.”

  “Right,” she said, bored with the Girl Scout lesson. She needed material for her blog. “So, boss
, do you have a flashpoint?”

  His mouth twitched downward. “Please don’t call me boss.”

  “What should I call you—Mr. Armstrong?”

  “My name is Marcus.”

  “Do you have a nickname?”

  “No,” he said in a clipped tone. “Could we stay on point?”

  “Yes, boss,” she said, then winced. “Sorry.”

  He exhaled and seemed to be summoning strength. “Do you know how to use a fire extinguisher?”

  “In theory.”

  He leaned over to pick up one of the remaining fire extinguishers sitting under the counter. Again, he grunted when his back caught. Alicia held her tongue, but she moved to take the fire extinguisher from him. He allowed her, but moved his arm around hers. Even with the light touch, she could feel what a powerful man he was. It gave her a glimpse of what it might feel like to be in his arms.

  Not unpleasant, she acknowledged.

  “First, you would pull the pin,” he said, pointing to the ring in the nozzle.

  His mouth was close to her ear; his deep voice raised gooseflesh on her arms.

  “Aim the nozzle at the base of the fire and squeeze the lever.”

  Suddenly, she was finding it harder to breathe.

  “Then sweep it back and forth.”

  He guided her hand and pressed lightly to simulate the movements.

  “Don’t stop until the flames are completely out.”

  Except another kind of fire had started in her midsection. “What if I run out of foam?” she murmured.

  He seemed to take his time responding. “The first extinguisher might not have a full charge,” he said, his voice sounding husky. “So if there’s another extinguisher close by, use it.”

  She swallowed. “What about throwing water on it?”

  He made a rueful noise that bordered on a moan. “Not on a grease fire. If a canister of flour is sitting close by, that would smother the flame.”

  “Okay.”

  “Unless the fire is spreading,” he added. “If that’s the case, then pull the fire alarm and get out.” He suddenly released her and stepped back.

  Alicia let go of a pent up breath and turned toward him. “That was…enlightening.”

  He didn’t seem to share her gratification. In fact, he looked supremely annoyed. “Have you had a chance to enter your employee information into the payroll system?”