“Just you wait, Paige…” Petey gave her a conniving look. “We’ll suck you back in. You can’t hide forever.” He gave an evil laugh as he led the way past the bar and through the kitchen doors.
Sure enough, her mother stood at the row of burners stirring something in a saucepan. She wore her typical uniform, sensible black pants with a white button-up shirt. Her long auburn hair, now variegated with thick tracks of gray, had been twisted into a bun on top of her head.
Dad was stationed in his favorite place, flipping burgers over the grill, a spotted white apron tied around his wide girth and the paper chef’s hat covering his bald head. None of those fancy chef’s coats for him. He liked to keep things old-school.
They both had their backs to her, but Petey slammed down the tray with a loud thunk. “Look who’s here,” he announced.
“Paige!” Her mother’s watery mud-puddle eyes always got that wide, bewildered look when she saw her, as if she still couldn’t believe she’d had another baby when she was forty-five and “done having kids.”
“You look skinny.” She dropped the spoon and rushed over. “Have you been eating enough?”
Well, after Bryce and Avery had informed her that Ben was on his way to the ranch, she’d snuck into the kitchen and eaten five freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies…
Dad snatched a plate off the rack next to the burners and expertly flicked a charred burger right into the middle. He prided himself on his ability to fling burgers and catch them right out of the air. “Time to give up the rabbit food and try one of my burgers.”
She pushed away the plate he offered. “Good to see you, too.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom patted her. “Of course we’re happy to see you.”
“Wish we’d see more of you,” Dad grumbled. “Your mom’s hip is buggin’ her again.”
“Don’t be silly, Peter. It’s perfectly fine.” She set down her spoon and sashayed across the kitchen like she wanted to prove it, except a limp dragged her right foot.
Paige eyed her mother. Had she lost weight? Concern tightened her chest. “Are sure everything’s okay?”
“Of course,” she snapped. “Anyway, it’s not me we should be worried about.” She picked up her spoon again and pointed it right at her. “It’s you.” Red sauce dripped to the floor. “I just read this terrible article,” she said, conveniently leaving out the name of the publication. “Did you know most vegetarians are malnourished?”
She deflected her mother’s concerned glance with a smile. “I eat great, actually.” Elsie made a vegetarian complement to go with every meal at the ranch. “And I’m still wearing the same size I always have.” With all the calories she burned as a guide, that alone proved she ate healthier than most people. She definitely wasn’t scrawny. She’d inherited Gramma Lou’s body along with her personality. It wasn’t like she didn’t have any curves on her.
“It’s not natural. We were made to eat meat,” her father insisted as he flipped another burger high in the air.
Her gaze drifted over to the copious amounts of raw meat lumped on the stainless counters. Nausea pulsed up her throat. “What can I say? Not a big fan.”
Her mother shook her head. A silent where did I go wrong?
We are not having this conversation again. “So anyway, I’m covering for Penny today.” She snagged a red apron off a hook next to the sink and grimaced at the illustration across the chest. Two cartoon-looking steaks with faces, arms, and legs, staring at each other. Under the picture it read SO WE MEAT AGAIN.
Nice. “I see you got new uniforms.”
Her mother chuckled. “Your father has such a sense of humor.”
“He sure does.” Aspen Monthly hadn’t dubbed him the King of Bad Puns for nothing.
“Oh.” Her mother lifted the pot off the stove and set it next to the plating zone. “Would you go check on the Larsens? They’ll be so happy to see you.”
“You’ve got it.” She pulled the apron over her head and scurried out the door, tying the strings behind her back.
The Larsens were a sweet elderly couple who’d shown up at the café every day at 10:30 for coffee and a sandwich for the last eighteen years. They even had their own booth, though it wasn’t officially labeled. Every member of the Harper family knew and they always kept it open, a silent reservation.
Energy hummed through her as she made her way across the restaurant. This was the perfect way to start her shift, to ease into one of her least favorite activities. The Larsens never complained, never sent food back, never flustered her to the point that she dropped a dish or a tray, even though Mrs. Larsen was known to ask inappropriate questions. But she’d take that over someone complaining any day.
“Paige!” Luke Simms, one of the firemen, who also happened to be her ex, waved at her. “Did you come to see me?”
“You wish.” Though he was harmless, Luke had that snide, frat boy look about him—blond spiky hair, piercing blue eyes, and an upper body that looked like it could bench-press five times her weight. They had a lot of time to work out at the firehouse.
She’d dated him last year for all of three months before he’d figured out she wouldn’t sleep with him until they were exclusive. Apparently that was too much to ask. Ever since she’d broken things off, he’d been trying to change her mind.
“Come on, Paige. Let me take you out,” he called over.
Passing by the table without a glance, she flipped him off.
His fire buddies snorted. “You’re right, she’s totally into you,” one of them mocked.
Totally. She shook her head and veered toward the Larsens’ table.
Before she’d even made it to the table, Mrs. Larsen popped off the bench. “Paige!” She hugged her. “How wonderful to see you!”
Though they were about the same height, Mrs. Larsen seemed frail. Paige hugged her back gently, then stood upright. “You, too, Mrs. Larsen.” She had a grandmotherly face, full and round with lines where her dimples popped out when she smiled. Her long white hair had been twisted up and knotted on her head.
“My, my, my. You look positively fabulous.” She eased back into her seat and eyed her with a curious look Paige knew well. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
It wouldn’t be a normal day if she didn’t. “Not at all. Ask away.” She started to stack their empty plates and avoided making eye contact.
“Have you ever had work done?” Mrs. Larsen lifted both hands and made circular motions around her chest. “In this area?”
Whoa. She cleared her throat and glanced at Mr. Larsen, who’d gone right back to his crossword puzzle. “I’m sorry? Work?”
“Yes. You know, a boob job?” The woman whispered loudly. “Isn’t that what it’s called? I mean yours are so perky.” She leaned forward and seemed to inspect them. “Aren’t they perky, Ed?”
Still decoding the clues of his crossword puzzle, he nodded, but graciously didn’t corroborate the gesture with a verbal agreement.
“They look perky to me!” Luke yelled over, earning another laugh from his comrades.
“Dude, you have a death wish,” one of them said.
Paige held the pile of stacked plates up to block her cleavage from everyone’s probing eyes. “Nope,” she informed the room. “Never had any work done.” If only she could find tank tops that contained her better. But then she’d be wearing turtlenecks all the time.
“All natural.” Luke elbowed the friend on his right. “That’s the way I like them.”
“From what I hear, you like them any way you can get them,” Paige shot back, then turned to Mrs. Larsen.
“Lucky girl!” The woman shook her head sadly. “Mine have been practically dragging on the floor for years now. It might be time. Do you think I should look into it?”
Did she think a seventy-eight-year-old woman should get a boob job? Grinning, she shrugged. “If you want, but a Wonderbra is cheaper.”
“A Wonderbra!” Mrs. Larsen heaved her purse,
which was large enough to be a duffel bag, onto the table and dug her hand in. She pulled out a pen and a small notebook. “Wonderbra, you said? That might lift them back where they belong?” she asked, squinting up.
“Yes.” She laughed, peering into the mugs. “Now can I get you anything besides bra advice?”
“A warm-up on the coffee would be splendid,” Mrs. Larsen murmured, still scrawling notes in her notebook.
Head still bowed toward his crossword, Mr. Larsen nodded.
“Coming right up,” she called as she hurried past the bar, carefully holding the plates, still smiling. That Mrs. Larsen…you never knew what you were gonna get.
“Excuse me.” A woman’s cold voice ground her to a stop. Paige spun to the door where the lady stood, hands on hips, eyes glaring. Dressed in an expensive pantsuit, she had that look like once upon a time she’d been a knockout, but years of frowning must’ve taken their toll because to her, behind the makeup and the shiny hair, the woman looked bitter. No sparkle in her eyes like Mrs. Larsen. They were shark-dull.
Next to her sat a woman about her age in a wheelchair. She had that sweet girlish prettiness about her, long dark hair, brown eyes that beamed like she was keeping the secret to a happy life.
“Hi there.” Paige smiled at the girl to avoid looking into the Ice Queen’s eyes. “Can I help you?”
“We’ve been waiting five minutes for someone to seat us,” the older woman barked.
“Oh.” Paige carefully shifted the stack of empty plates in her hands. “You can seat yourselves. I’ll be with you in a few.”
“Seat ourselves? You can’t be serious.” The woman threw up her hands like she was conducting a symphony. “I mean, where are the menus? And my daughter requires special accommodations.”
“Don’t blame this on me,” the dark-haired girl mumbled.
Whoa. All of the warmth she’d gathered from the Larsens dissipated, creating plenty of room for the dread to seep back in. This lady represented everything she despised about the restaurant biz. She didn’t even have to wait on her to know nothing would please her. “Okay. Well…” She glanced around for a table that might at satisfy her. “That booth over there by the window would be perfect. You can even see Aspen Mountain.” Just a slice of it, but still.
The woman didn’t budge. She simply stared, the toe of her overpriced gold heel tapping.
Tension worked its way up her neck, into her jaw. What was this lady’s problem?
Before the woman could speak, the door whooshed open.
“Sorry.” A guy hustled over to where they stood.
Wait. Her heart squeezed hard then ramped up into overdrive because it wasn’t just a guy. It was him. Him, him. Ben Noble. She should’ve averted her eyes to ease the panicked heat that surged through her, but he was even better looking than she remembered. Short, choppy light brown hair, hazel eyes lit with energy and intensity. He wore his jeans tighter than most of the guys she hung out with, but it definitely worked for him. Her gaze lowered to the floor and back up. Yep. Definitely worked.
He hadn’t seen her, yet. He was too focused on the dark-haired beauty in the wheelchair. “Sorry about that,” he drawled. “Had to park clear out in no-man’s-land.”
The woman directed her sweet smile at him. Well, good, then. Maybe that would make it easier to spend the next week with him. Maybe he’d finally found a woman who was worth a call the next morning…
“Mom was just making a scene.” The nice girl in the wheelchair scooted herself closer to him.
Paige let out a breath. So the girl was his sister. And…Mom? The Ice Queen was his mother? Well, that explained a lot. No wonder he had commitment issues…
“Wouldn’t be a normal day if she didn’t make a scene.” He finally looked over in Paige’s direction, aiming that funny, spoiled-boy grin at her. But when his eyes met hers, the smile fell off and his face froze in shock. “Paige.”
She steeled herself against the way his lazy voice tingled up her spine. Nuh-huh. No way. Not going there again.
He sauntered close enough that she could smell the subtle cologne she still remembered from their dance last year, sweet and spicy all at once.
She backed up a step, clutching the ceramic plates against her chest, trying to hold her heart in so it wouldn’t leap out of her chest and land right in that man’s hands. “Hello, Ben.” She cocked her own smile, but it definitely wasn’t sweet.
His gaze lowered down her body. “You look good.”
She hugged the plates tighter.
“I’m sorry,” the Ice Queen broke in. “I wasn’t aware you two were acquainted.” The woman eyed her with a calculated precision.
Paige volleyed the question to Ben with raised brows. Obviously, he’d never mentioned her. But then again, why would he? He’d probably already found another date five minutes after she left the gala.
“Paige works for Bryce,” Ben said, still gazing at her with a determined look fortifying his eyes.
Suddenly, the plates felt too heavy. Or her arms felt too weak…
“Paige, meet my mother.” Ben swept out an arm. “Gracie Noble.”
She would have said it was a pleasure, but that would’ve been a bold-faced lie, so she simply nodded.
Finally Ben broke his stare and looked over at his mom. “I hope Gracie wasn’t causin’ any trouble.”
The woman harrumphed and crossed her arms. “I would like to sit, that’s all,” she drawled. “I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, waiting.”
Ten minutes! Paige tightened her grip on the plates because her arms trembled with the tension building inside of her. Ten minutes ago she was flipping off Luke and chatting with Mrs. Larsen about boob jobs. Ten minutes ago she was smiling and relaxed and her pulse wasn’t racing like she was stuck in a runaway train car. Ten minutes ago the memory of hooking up with Ben was still buried as deep as she could stuff it. But now the hot bastard stood too close to her, wreaking havoc on all five of her senses at once.
Dismissing his mother with a roll of those gorgeous eyes, Ben eased closer to her. “All right by you if we find a seat? You’re not gonna kick us outta this fine establishment, are you?” His fingertips brushed the hypersensitive skin on the back of her upper arm.
Her muscles went from weak to useless. A loud crash jarred her. Oh no! No, no, no! She’d dropped the plates.
“What the hell?” Dad’s voice drifted out from the kitchen.
“Everything’s fine!” she called before he lumbered out there to meet the Noble family. That was all she needed. Another contestant on a nightmare version of Family Feud.
Mumbling a string of curses that would’ve made Bryce fire her on the spot, she dropped to her knees to pick up the ceramic shards.
“Here. Let me.” Ben knelt to help her.
“No. I’ve got it.” Throwing a solid elbow to block him, she quickly gathered every broken shard before he could touch one, then rose with as much dignity as possible, given the situation. “Please. Go sit in the booth by the window. I’ll be right with you.” Refusing to look into his eyes, she spun and got the hell away from him.
“We’ll need waters right away,” the Ice Queen called after her. “I’ve only been in this town for an hour and I’m already parched.”
“Of course,” she bit off over her shoulder, then stalked past the bar and finally ducked through the kitchen door where she was safely out of sight.
Blowing the hair out of her eyes, she leaned against the wall and reclaimed the breath that man had stolen from her lungs with just one look.
Yeah. It was going to be a long week.
Chapter Five
He should go sit.
He should.
Go sit.
But all he could think about was the way his insides imploded when he saw Paige again, as painful as that time a steer had kicked him right under the ribs. Paige. Such a simple name. One syllable. Uncomplicated. Seemed to be her philosophy in life. Not one trace of makeup on her face, but
somehow her eyes still stood out. They were an intriguing shade of brown, too dark to be hazel, but too bright to be called chocolate. There was no name for the color of those eyes. Then there was her hair. Long and wavy, auburn but sun-streaked with blond and reddish curls. And don’t get him started on her toned body. The way the muscles in her arms pulled the skin taut, the tempting valley between her sculpted breasts…
“Let’s go.” Gracie tugged his arm like he was five years old again. “Surely there’s a restaurant somewhere in this town that knows how to treat customers. These people obviously don’t know what they’re doing.”
He jerked away from her and glanced toward the kitchen door where Paige had disappeared. “This is the best burger joint in town.” Besides that, he couldn’t leave now. Not when he knew Paige was there.
“It’s a dive is what it is.” His mother visibly shivered. “We’ll likely end up with E. coli if we eat here, Benjamin.”
“Quit yapping, Mother. I want a burger.” Julia wheeled away from them and cruised to the booth by the window. With a shrug directed at Gracie, Ben followed his sister. She usually got what she wanted.
“Fine.” His mother stalked ahead of him and slid into the booth. He took the other side so they were facing off. Not that different from most days. Even so, he grinned at her. Somethin’ about seein’ Paige again made him want to smile. “About time you start livin’ on the edge, I reckon. Besides, this place knows how to prepare meat.”
She held up her hands like she was afraid to touch the table. “That girl can’t even do her job. How can I possibly trust them enough to eat their food?”
“Come on, Gracie. Cut her some slack. Maybe she’s havin’ a bad day.” He felt that jolt of appreciation again. She might be havin’ a bad day but she looked good. Real good.
“Or maybe she’s suffering from the Ben effect,” Julia snickered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on. I’ve been watching women melt in your presence for years. She was so flustered she dropped the plates!”
Something Like Love Page 4
