On the drive over, he found his mind wandering. There was something about the landscape, the scrub and brown desert soil looking out over the buttes that had an almost mystical effect on Jace. The effect vanished when he pulled into the parking lot of the truck stop and saw a hooker standing at the front entrance to the restaurant. He bore the woman—no, girl, this one couldn’t possibly be legal—no ill will. He just wished he could do something to help them occasionally, more than slinging them a few dollars or, when they looked as young as this one did, calling the cops. He wasn’t going to do that again. He figured anyone who would run away from home for this had a good-enough reason and didn’t need to go back there any more than they needed to be in their current occupation. Hopefully a few bucks from his pocket would at least help that day.
“Hey,” he said as she approached.
“Looking for some fun, mister?” Her voice was thin and she moved slowly. Was she just affected by the heat, or something else? Fucking heroin. It was everywhere around here, along with meth.
“You okay? No one hassling you today?”
She blinked slowly. “I’m good. You, uh, you wouldn’t happen to have a dollar I could borrow, would you?”
He slung a fifty at her. His new venture might still be finding its feet, but with his inheritance at least he’d never be hurting for money like this. Her eyes widened. “Keep it. Just, use it for food, please.”
She nodded vehemently. “Thank you!”
He tipped his head at her, pushing open the door to the restaurant. The waitress came walking over from around the bar and smiled at him, her eyes roaming over his body. “Just one,” he said. God knew what she was looking at. He hadn’t even stopped to wash up after his dusty morning.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Beer, thanks. Whatever you have on tap.”
“Sure thing.” She turned and walked back to the bar, returning quickly with his drink. Jace picked up the menu and looked it over, even though he’d read it at least a hundred times. You never knew when the cook might try something new. He was a funny guy, an older man who didn’t mind chatting with the customers. Maybe he’d sit at the bar awhile after he ate and chat to the old dude, pick up his work again under the stars when the air was cooler. The sky was darkening, but the temperature didn’t show any signs of dropping. He wanted to get a large enough barn put in before winter, when the air would finally get colder at night, but to do that, he needed to get the damn fence finished.
“Uh, excuse me?” He looked up from the menu to see a young blonde calling out to the cook. The man didn’t look up. He was busy cooking, and probably going a little deaf, too. Or maybe he just used that as an excuse to avoid complaining customers. Jace chuckled, hiding his grin behind his beer when she shot a furious glare at him. He didn’t drop his gaze, though. There was something about her, behind the fire, that attracted his attention.
“Hey,” she called out louder.
The cook finally looked up. “What?”
“Looks like you’re short a waitress.”
“Then get yourself a table.” He turned, picking up his knife again.
“I’m trying to get myself a job.”
He turned back and looked her over. “No.”
Her face fell, and Jace’s smile dropped away with hers. Damn, what was it about this girl?
“But I really need one, and you really need a waitress.”
“You’ll scare the customers away, looking like that.”
“Not any more than you already do,” she grinned. She had a point. Cook’s hair was gray and wiry, and either brushed his shoulders or stuck up at all angles. Add in his fondness for inappropriate T-shirts and knife wielding, and she had a point.
“I pay minimum.”
“That’s fine.”
The cook looked her over once more. He must have seen something in her, too, because he nodded. “Alright. Get an apron and come around back.”
Jace’s waitress returned right after to take his order. He must have said something, because she scribbled on her order pad and then walked away, but he didn’t pay any attention.
He was too busy watching the blonde.
7
Sienna
Something soft caressed Sienna’s face. She rolled over in bed, a smile on her face. “Morning, Mom.” It took three whole seconds before the memories kicked in and she opened her eyes. A giant-ass spider was crawling along her cheek.
“Fuck!” She jumped out of bed, flinging it across the room. Where she couldn’t see it. Just great. She risked a glance from the corner it had landed in to her phone on the nightstand. Six a.m. Nearly an hour before she had to even think about starting her day. She plopped back on the bed and pulled the blankets up over her head, so her morning surprise couldn’t get in. That lasted all of about a minute before she overheated. She’d risk the spider over passing out under the covers. There was obviously not going to be any more sleeping that morning and so she snatched up some half-decent clean clothes and made her way to the bathroom.
“You’ll be fine, it’s just a damn spider.” She felt stupid talking out loud to herself, but it helped. The anxiety had started just as she’d climbed into bed last night. The feeling had crept through her from the moment she’d closed her eyes, like a phantom crawling through the dark that would strike as soon as she let her guard down. In her dreams, the phantom morphed into death, with long metal teeth snapping beneath his black cloak, disintegrating into bugs when she opened her eyes—bugs that fell against her mother’s body. Then she jolted awake, wind was shaking the windows, battering and clanging outside. It took until nearly dawn before her weary eyes finally closed again. And then there had to be that damn spider.
Finishing her shower, she peeked outside her room’s window, eyebrows rising in surprise when she spotted her car sitting neatly out in the lot. Thank God for crazy Santa gnomes. Maybe she should just leave? Get in her car and head to Reno or Phoenix, see what she had left in her belongings she could pawn and make the rest up from there. She was half out the door before she’d even finished the thought, the early morning breeze making her shiver. It wasn’t cold, exactly, but compared to the scorching heat from yesterday when she’d been stuck on the side of a highway, it was chilling. She glanced over at her car. Yes, she could leave, but it wouldn’t help. She had no idea why her mother had fake papers, a fake name all this time, but no one did that for fun. She’d been hiding from someone—someone who had found her. Now they knew her address, her assumed name . . . and her license plate. With cameras on every interstate and city street, and God only knew what other resources these people had, they’d find her the minute she stepped into civilization. Maybe they already knew where she was. She’d survived the night. All Sienna knew was that if she left again and drove into a city, she’d almost guarantee she’d be spotted. Here, at least she had half a chance.
“Shit!” she kicked out at the wall. If she was stuck here, then at least she could get the rest of her crap out of her car. She spent the next ten minutes hauling her suitcase and bits and pieces into her room, only to end up sweaty and dirt-streaked again and with only ten minutes before she needed to be at her first shift at the diner. With no time to shower again, she wiped down her face and hands with a wet cloth and reapplied a smattering of makeup, pulling her hair into a long ponytail. That would do. It wasn’t as if it were a five-star establishment, after all. What she really wanted to do was lie down, close her eyes, and have her mother wake her up, telling her this was all some crazy dream. Maybe a twisted version of A Christmas Carol, or maybe she’d taken something weird from one of her friends at the party. No. She didn’t do drugs. That much she still knew was true. A sigh left her mouth. This was her life, for the moment, anyway; time to suck it up.
Chico, the cook she’d met yesterday, was waiting at the counter when she walked in. He drummed his fingers on the top. “You’re late. You’re fired.” He pointed at the door. Oh, hell no.
“
You know what,” she crossed the floor, stopping only inches from him. “I’ve just been through the worst few days of my entire life. This job is not worth putting up with this much shit.”
He face cracked into a grin. “Good. Now I know you’ll be able to handle the customers we get in here.”
What? Sienna’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t be serious.
He handed her a small cleaning kit. “Go wipe down the tables. Breakfast rush’ll be here soon.” He made little shooing movements with his hands. “Hurry up.”
“Oh, my God. I’m going to kill you.”
Chico laughed. “Just don’t kill the customers, no matter how much you want to.” He turned and walked back to the kitchen, whistling.
“Excuse me? Miss?” Either there was also an invisible hostess or people were seating themselves. As Sienna turned around, an elderly woman with her hair up in a roller set was seated at a table that had been empty a moment earlier. She snapped her fingers at Sienna.
Okaaay. “I’ll be with you in just one moment.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll be with me now.”
Sienna looked over at Chico, who was grinning behind the grill. He motioned at her to walk over to the table. Maybe he hadn’t been exaggerating with his unique welcome before. Sienna pasted on her best customer service smile and walked over. “How can I help you?”
“I want two eggs, over easy, on rye toast. Don’t toast it too much.” She looked at Sienna like it was a matter of life and death. She didn’t dare let her smile slip.
“And what would you like to drink?”
“Coffee. Strong, but not too strong.”
“Alrighty then.” She spun around before the woman could issue any more demands and walked quickly to the kitchen.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Chico asked.
“Not a day in my life.”
“Here.” He thrust an order pad at her. “Write it down there, put it here.” He pointed to a spinning wheel sitting between the kitchen and the front bench.
“Got it.”
“And hurry it up. These people need their food quick.” He snapped his fingers.
Sienna scrawled the lady’s order down and shoved it on one of the clips on the wheel, then took the lady a glass of water.
“I need lemon.”
“Sure you do. I’ll be right back.” As she turned again, Sienna heard someone off to her side stifle a chuckle. She turned her head and spotted a cowboy sitting at one of the far side tables. A hot cowboy. Who was laughing at her. Why didn’t she have a gun, or at least something that she could throw at him? Instead, she snatched up a couple of lemon wedges, glaring in his direction the entire time. She dumped a bowl of cut lemon on the lady’s table. “There you go.”
“How long does it take to make a plate of eggs?”
Sienna took in a deep breath. Not going to yell at the customer before I’ve even been here an hour. She glanced back over at the cowboy, who was failing miserably at hiding a grin behind his hand. Maybe by hour two.
“I’ll go check your order.” She practically ran back to the kitchen to find Chico holding out a plate to her. “Here you go.” She took it and marched back to the table.
“If that toast is burnt—” the woman began.
“It’s fine, Addie!” Chico yelled from the kitchen. Seriously? “Three tables need their orders taken and I still need the others cleaned. Why do you always do this? Every time I get a new server, you have to go and try to make them cry.”
“It’s fun.” The old woman took her plate and dug in, a twinkle in her eye.
Oh. My. God. I’m in the seventh circle of hell. Sienna leaned in really close to Addie, where she hoped Chico wouldn’t hear her. “Next time, you’re not getting breakfast service until lunch.” Chico’s booming laugher made her jump back. Crap.
“Serves you right, Addie.”
The cowboy was laughing, too. At least he was trying to make it not quite so obvious. She walked up to his table, intent on giving him a piece of her mind, but when he saw her approaching, his face split into a grin that made her stop in her tracks. The man was fucking sex on a stick. That was so not fair. Why’d she have to find him here? And why did he have to be such an asshole? “What do you want?”
His smile didn’t change. “What happened to ‘How can I help you today?’”
“What do you want?”
“Well, coffee, if you can manage it. I might have a Xanax or something, if you need it. You look a little tense.”
“Coffee it is.” She turned and walked away. She was three feet from the coffee maker when the shrieking began. Two small boys—demonic twins by the looks of them—and a stressed-out mother stood near the entrance.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Sienna resisted the urge to yell over the screaming. “Would you like a to-go box?”
“And get food all over my car? No thank you. Three sodas, a plate of chicken strips, and a breakfast burger.”
Sienna wrote up the order and hurried it to the kitchen, before turning back toward the cowboy’s corner. The noise over on that side was dulled almost enough that it didn’t feel like her eardrums would rupture. Before she could make it over, Chico walked quickly over to the mom’s table, where one of the boys was seeing how loud he could scream, and dumped a giant plate of French fries on the table. “On the house,” he said. The boys stopped immediately, diving into the crunchy snack and Sienna sagged in relief. Maybe she wouldn’t end this shift with brain matter leaking out her ears.
“Fuck,” she whispered, the sound still half echoing in her ears. She took Cowboy’s order and then walked back to the machine to actually get the coffee. Chico came up behind her. “It gets easier. You got food out during your first shift without spilling it on anyone. That’s further than my last girl.” He grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the floor. “Go take five. I’ll take the coffee over.”
“Thank you.” Sienna almost sprinted out into the lobby. After awhile, the noise stopped echoing in her head and she stood to walk back into the restaurant. She’d made it ten steps before the boys’ fries ran out and they grabbed their soda, starting a burping competition. She gritted her teeth and swung by the kitchen, carrying over Cowboy’s breakfast. She’d made it another five steps before one of the boys rammed into her headlong, running at full speed. The cowboy’s breakfast went flying as she fell on the ground with an “oomph!” Their mother jumped up, sidestepping the toast as she tried to help Sienna to her feet while a now-crying child clung to her pants, seemingly trying to drag his mother down to the ground, too.
“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry about this.”
Sienna stood, wiping ketchup off her hands and onto her apron, leaving a dark smear. She could do this. It was just a little spilled food, after all. She’d get through today without murdering anyone.
Cowboy laughed. “This is awesome. A show, and eventually breakfast.” He raised his coffee mug in salute.
Or maybe not. She stalked over, picked up the mug, and emptied it over his head. “Oops. Must have slipped again.”
He was completely speechless for a good few seconds, but then burst out laughing again, coffee dripping off his ears and onto his shirt. “Jesus, woman. You know what? I’ll be back every day until Chico fires you. This is just too much fun.”
She stared at him, slack mouthed. Did nothing get to this guy?
“Meanwhile, I still need breakfast. How about we change it to steak and eggs? Need the protein for whatever’s coming next.”
Oh, my God. Sienna stormed back to the kitchen, banging her order pad on the counter for good measure. Chico stood behind the stainless-steel barrier, flipping pancakes. He gestured back to Cowboy. “That, you can’t do.”
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“It’s okay,” Chico shook his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his face. “But please, don’t empty beverages over the customer again.”
He smiled at her and Sienna couldn’t help but smile back. “A
lright.” After delivering the steak and eggs—without an apology this time—Sienna ducked into the restroom, wincing at her reflection. She looked like death, still pale and frazzled with crazy eyes. She reached down and turned on the tap, splashing her face with cool water. She hoped that would get rid of some of the stress along with the grime. What the hell had she been doing out there? She didn’t usually lose her temper that badly. If she was going to make this work, she had to suck it up. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and walked out of the restroom, her eyes going straight to the table in the back corner. The cowboy was gone, and in his place was a fifty-dollar note, tucked under his plate. She picked it up, turning it over in her hand, and spotted the note scrawled across the top.
See you tomorrow, and thanks for the coffee!
A half laugh, half snort escaped. For a fifty-dollar tip, maybe he’d come back for lunch.
8
Sienna
Sienna (Dreamcatchers Romantic Suspense Series Book 5) Page 4
