Copyright © 2008, 2011, 2013
Kissing Cousins by Marcia Lynn McClure
www.marcialynnmcclure.com
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the contents of this book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any part or by any means without the prior written consent of the author and/or publisher.
Published by Distractions Ink
P.O. Box 15971
Rio Rancho, NM 87174
©Copyright 2008, 20011, 2013 by M. Meyers
A.K.A. Marcia Lynn McClure
Cover Photography by ©Keith Wheatley/Dreamstime.com
Cover Design and Interior Graphics by Sandy Ann Allred/Timeless Allure
First Printed Edition: February 2011
Second Printed Edition: April 2013
All character names and personalities in this work of fiction are entirely fictional,
created solely in the imagination of the author.
Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
McClure, Marcia Lynn, 1965—
Kissing Cousins: a novella/by Marcia Lynn McClure.
ISBN: 978-0-9827826-8-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011923278
Printed in the United States of America
To…
AJ, Aimes, Kay, Sandy the Elder, and Sandy the Younger…
Encouragement is the greatest motivator!
Thank you, thank you, thank you for being my little engines that always think I can!
I love you!
CHAPTER ONE
“You’ve got a party of four at table five, Poppy,” Whitney said. “And you’re gonna need the ring.”
“Oh, no! Not the ring,” Poppy Amore whined. If Whitney thought Poppy was going to need the ring, then Poppy was certainly going to need the ring.
Reaching into the hostess podium, Whitney withdrew the ring and handed it to Poppy. “Sorry, girl,” Whitney said, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind one ear. “But at least it looks like it will be a good tip.”
Slipping the wide gold band on her left ring finger, Poppy sighed. “It better be,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Poppy hated the tables requiring “the wearing of the ring,” as the staff of Good Ol’ Days called it. Wearing the wide wedding band usually only settled the flirtatious male customers a little. If they were going to be flirty—or downright lewd—they were going to be flirty or downright lewd whether or not their waitress was wearing a wedding band—at least in Poppy Amore’s experience as a waitress.
Still, as Dean Martin crooned “On an Evening in Roma” over the restaurant sound system, Poppy drew in a deep breath and headed for table five. Sure enough, four older businessmen sat at table five, talking and laughing as they perused their menus.
Pasting on a smile, Poppy approached the table. “Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Good Ol’ Days! I’m Poppy, and I’ll be your server this evening,” she said.
“Nice!” one of the men said, smiling and studying her from head to toe. He looked to be near fifty with thinning brown hair. Poppy had seen some very handsome forty-something men in her lifetime—this man wasn’t one of them.
Poppy held her order tablet in her left hand, making certain the thick gold band on her ring finger was well on display. “May I start you out with something to drink?” Poppy asked.
“I’ll take one you, right here next to me, honey,” another man said, patting the empty chair next to him. This man had dark hair, graying at the temples, and could’ve been quite a handsome fifty-something if it hadn’t been for his apparent cretin’s personality.
Poppy smiled and shook her head as she said, “We’re a bit too busy for me to sit even for a minute tonight, sir.”
“I’ll take a Coke,” the third man said. “With lime, if you have it.” This man smiled at her with understanding. He seemed a bit older than the others with a rather grandfatherly smile.
“Of course, sir,” Poppy said, jotting the drink code down on her order tablet.
“Me too,” the fourth man said. “Only with lemon. No lime.” This man was also older, and paternal looking.
“Yes, sir,” Poppy said, jotting again. “And for you gentlemen?” she asked the two men who had squandered her time in flirting instead of giving her their drink orders.
“Coke here, too. No citrus,” the balding man said. “Though I’m with him—I’d rather have you,” he added, pointing to the man next to him.
Poppy simply forced a false smile in his direction.
“Just give me water,” the worst flirt said. “You married, honey?” he asked.
Smiling, Poppy held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers as she showed the wedding band to him.
“Well, I’m willing to work around that, if you are,” he said, winking at her.
Forcing a smile and tipping her head to one side, Poppy said, “I’m not.”
“Your loss,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders.
“Or not,” one of the other men mumbled. All four men chuckled at the obvious verbal slam.
“Any appetizers this evening, gentlemen?” Poppy asked. Inwardly she was quite rattled, as she always was whenever a table was difficult to work. Outwardly, however, she hid it well, forcing a smile and appearing as calm and accommodating as possible.
“We want an order of the fried cheese and some chips and salsa,” the grandfatherly man said. “And maybe a couple more minutes.”
“You bet,” Poppy said. “I’ll get those appetizers started for you and be right back to take your order.” Nodding, she stepped sideways away from the table. Too many bad experiences had taught her what could happen if a waitress turned her back on a table, so she side-stepped away from tables instead. Especially ones with men like these sitting at them.
“I need an order of fried cheese and one of chips and salsa for table five,” Poppy called to the kitchen over the order counter.
“You got it, Poppy,” the head cook said.
Swaggart Moretti was, hands down, the best cook at Good Ol’ Days. He was also the restaurant owner’s grandson, and drop-dead gorgeous! Poppy smiled at him as he winked at her, delighted by the mussed condition of his dark hair. As always, her stomach did a little loop-the-loop as she looked at him.
Poppy had secreted a crush on Swaggart Moretti ever since she first met him her freshman year in high school. He had already graduated and was far too old for her back then—and far beyond her now. Her smile faded a bit as she thought of his girlfriend, Jennifer—a tall, gorgeous brunette—the perfect physical match to Swaggart’s tall, dark, and incredibly handsome. Although Poppy had determined to give up her crush on Swaggart long ago, she still couldn’t stop the giddy nervousness that always washed over her in his presence.
“Thanks,” she said, adjusting her apron.
“Heard you’ve had to invoke the power of the ring already tonight,” Swaggart said, smiling his dazzling smile.
Poppy rolled her dark brown eyes and said, “What power? Still, I guess it’s working about fifty-fifty so far, and that’s better than nothing.”
Swaggart chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as he said, “I’ll call you for those appetizers.”
“Thanks,” Poppy said, brushing a stray strand of cocoa-brown hair from her cheek. She shoved her order tablet in her apron pocket and turned to the beverage fountain. Swaggart was so handsome! His presence was definitely an amenity of working at Good Ol’ Days.
Poppy filled three glasses with Cokes—one with lime, one with lemon, one without either—and one glass with ice water.
“Table seven’s ready, Poppy,” Swaggart called. Bobby, Swaggart’s cousin an
d one of the other cooks at Good Ol’ Days, placed two heaping plates on the order counter.
“Got it, Poppy?” Bobby asked.
“Got it,” Poppy said, putting the four drinks she’d just poured on a black serving tray. She would deliver table five’s drinks first and then come back for seven’s dinners. She smiled, thinking how much she liked the chaos of working at Good Ol’ Days.
“Here you go, gentlemen,” Poppy said, distributing the drinks among the four businessmen. “Your appetizers will be right out. Are you ready to order?”
“Yes,” the oldest man said. “I’ll have the sirloin, medium-well.”
Poppy tucked the black tray under one arm. Retrieving her order tablet from her apron, she scribbled an order notation. “Would you like the loaded baked potato or the garlic mashed potato with that, sir?”
“Loaded baked,” the man said. “And can I get the squash as the other vegetable?”
“You bet,” Poppy said. “And what kind of dressing would you like on your salad?”
“Is your house dressing good?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s my personal favorite,” Poppy assured him with a smile.
“Then I’ll have that,” the man said, folding his menu.
“And for you, sir?” Poppy said, turning to the other older man.
As he began to recite his order, Poppy glanced up to see three or four large groups of people entering by way of the restaurant’s front door. Several other couples and two large groups of people were lined up outside the restaurant entrance doors. Whitney was madly taking names for seating. It looked as if the four businessmen at table five were just the beginning of a very busy evening. Still, Poppy sighed, pleased. It was always preferable to be too busy than not busy at all.
She finished taking table five’s order and hurried to the order counter to pick up table seven’s plates. Busy! That’s what she preferred. Bing Crosby was asking “Did You Ever See a Dream Walking?” by way of the sound system, and Poppy smiled as she hummed along. She loved the atmosphere in the restaurant—the walls adorned with antiques and memorabilia from the 1940s and 1950s, the good music from the same eras. Good Ol’ Days was a fun place to work—great food, great friends, great atmosphere, and great music. It was a good job, and Poppy was thankful for it.
*
“It’s crazy tonight!” Poppy said as she returned the wedding ring to Whitney. Whitney quickly put the ring back in its hiding place in the hostess podium.
“I know! What’s the deal?” Whitney said. “Richard? Party of five?” she called, marking one name off the very long list of names on the eraser board in the crook of her arm. “Did those guys tip you good?” she asked. “Was it worth the agony?”
“Twenty-five bucks,” Poppy said.
“Not bad,” Whitney said. Brittany appeared then, and Whitney handed her five menus just as a man, a women, and three children stepped forward.
“I’m Richard,” the man said.
“Will you seat Richard and his party at table ten?” Whitney asked Brittany.
“Sure,” Brittany, a cute little high-school blonde, said. “If you’ll follow me,” Brittany said to Richard and his party.
“I hope you’re not taking a break,” Whitney said to Poppy then.
“Right!” Poppy giggled, looking around at the mob of people still waiting for tables.
“Good!” Whitney said. “Because wait until you see what I had seated for you at table eight!”
Poppy rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Give it back to me then,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “But I’m not sure I should hog the ring for two tables tonight.”
“Oh, you won’t want the ring for this table,” Whitney said, smiling. “Kathy? Party of two?”
“Really?” Poppy asked, smiling. “How hot is he?” If Whitney said Poppy didn’t want the ring, then Poppy knew she didn’t want the ring. The last time Whitney’s eyes had twinkled like this after seating someone at one of Poppy’s tables, the guy had turned out to be extremely good looking!
“Hot enough you’re gonna owe me big time!” Whitney said.
“For real?” Poppy asked, giggling.
“Oh, yeah!” Whitney said. “He’s got a date…but I can tell its business or something like that. So just enjoy the view. Think of it as my apology for giving you those four jerks earlier.”
“Well, only two of them were real jerks,” Poppy said. “But thanks for the bonus anyhow.”
“You’re welcome,” Whitney said.
“Hi,” a brunette woman asked as she approached Whitney. “I’m Kathy.”
Poppy smiled at Whitney and left her to her mad seating charts. Table eight and some handsome guy was waiting, but Poppy felt the need to take a breath first.
Stepping into the restroom, Poppy studied herself in the mirror. She was a wreck! The hectic pace of a busy Friday night was beginning to show. Quickly, she tucked her white shirt more snugly into her black slacks and readjusted the rolled up sleeves. Taking the small quarter-sized jar of lip gloss out of her apron pocket, she used her right ring finger to smooth a quick application of shine on her lips and used her pinky to wipe away the small dot of old makeup at the corner of her eye. Running her fingers through her hair, she washed her hands and forced a smile. She hoped she looked presentable enough. Waiting on handsome guys was a double-edged sword—it was exhilarating and nerve-wracking at the same time. Still, it added some excitement to the job.
With a heavy sigh, Poppy left the Good Ol’ Days women’s room and headed for table eight.
“Oh my heck!” Brittany exclaimed in a whisper as Poppy made her way past the kitchen. “Have you been to table eight yet, Poppy?”
“No,” Poppy said.
“Oh my heck!” Brittany said, clasping both hands over heart. “Take a deep breath now, ’cause after you see him…oh my heck…he is gorgeous! I wish the hostess was my best friend! I would’ve given anything to wait on this guy!”
“Okay,” Poppy giggled. Brittany was so dramatic. Her theatrical reactions to things always made Poppy smile.
“No, seriously!” Brittany said. “Even you will be impressed, Poppy!”
“Okay! I’m going then,” Poppy giggled. She shook her head, amused at Brittany’s dramatics as she headed for table eight.
Approaching table eight from the kitchen side of the restaurant, she could see a woman facing her and a man with his back to her. The woman looked really well put together, with perfect hair and perfect makeup and wearing a white blouse and black jacket. Poppy sneered at the woman’s appearance. Rings and bracelets fairly dripped from her fingers and wrists. Poppy was all too familiar with this sort of woman—a woman with the “serve me because I’m better than you” arrogance that drove her crazy. Still, from the back, the guy looked good. With dark, short hair and broad shoulders and wearing a white business shirt, he certainly seemed handsome from the back. If he was as gorgeous as Whitney and Brittany said, maybe dealing with his high and mighty companion would be worth it. Poppy determined she would address the woman first—start off on the right foot with her, before looking to see if the guy were really as hot as Whitney said.
Approaching table eight, order tablet in hand, Poppy said, “Good evening. Welcome to Good Ol’ Days. My name is Poppy and…and…”
She’d messed up big time! The woman smiled and nodded at her, and then habit caused Poppy to look to the man seated to her left. The sight of him caused her thoughts to hesitate for a moment. “And I’ll be your server this evening,” she managed. The man was stunning! “May I start you out with something to drink?” Poppy asked, returning her attention to the woman.
Good grief! She was a mess! Her hands were trembling, and she honestly felt a bit light-headed. The man seated across from the snooty woman at table eight was incredibly attractive! Whitney and Brittany had not overstated his appearance. As she struggled to jot down the woman’s order for a Diet Coke with lime, Poppy tried to calm herself. In the next moment, she would have
to face the man, and she had to regain her composure.
“And could you keep my drink fresh?” the woman was saying. “I abhor watered-down beverages.”
“Sure,” Poppy said, turning to face the man.
“Hi,” he said, smiling at her. White teeth and well-shaped lips gave his smile a true movie-star quality. A square jaw boasting just enough five o’clock shadow to give him a male-model appeal and his dark, dark, dark eyes complemented everything else about him perfectly!
“H-hi,” Poppy breathed. “And what can I get for you, sir?”
“Is your name really Poppy?” the woman asked.
“Um…yes,” Poppy said, tearing her attention from the handsome male customer. “Poppy.”
“Like the flower?” the woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Poppy said.
“How sweet,” the woman said. And there it was—that all too familiar “he’s with me” look in her eyes. “Are you new here?”
“No, ma’am,” Poppy said, sensing the slam about to come.
“Oh,” the woman said. “You seem like you’re new.”
“No, ma’am,” Poppy said. “It’s just been a really busy night and…”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said to the man then. “She still needs to take your beverage order, Mark.”
“Oh, yes,” Poppy said, blushing and returning her attention the man. “What can I get for you, sir?”
The handsome man smiled at her again, and she had to consciously fight the urge to sigh with delight.
“I’ll just have water,” he said. “Thanks.”
His voice was so deep, so clear and smooth. Poppy was near to giggling with nervous delight!
“Would you like to start with an appetizer?” she asked. She gasped and felt her eyes widen as it began then. “Oh, no!” she mumbled. Not now! she thought.
She heard Dean Martin begin to croon “That’s Amore” via the restaurant’s sound system. A moment later, every employee at Good Ol’ Days joined every regular customer present in singing.
Kissing Cousins Page 1
