by CJ Daly
but I was too afraid I’d spit at him to speak at the moment, so I eyed my pad
meaningfully.
“Oh, no-no-no-no.” He shook his head at me. “That’s cheating, Glasses.
You’ll need to build up those memory skills if you’re going to become a decent
waitress. I mean—I don’t really see many options for you out here in the
sticks, except for this gig, so I’d concentrate on rising above just being able
to walk and chew gum at the same time. With a little training, you might
actually be good at this serving thing. Who knows . . .” he continued his
mocking horoscope for my future, “one day, you might even make manager
of this dump, seeing as how Norma’s clearly going into a diabetic coma in a
couple of years . . . just in time for you to graduate!”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut—this was the exact scenario I
feared most.
Baseball Cap shot Ranger a strange look then quickly returned to his
all-absorbing phone. And here I thought he wasn’t paying attention. And
speaking of attention, I was going to pay the strictest of to get this order right, even if it killed me! I put down my pad and met his hateful eyes. No way is a
scumbag like Ranger gonna win.
“Ready whenever you are,” I said, all traces of tremor gone from my voice.
Ranger curled half a lip. “That a girl.” After this brief flash of approval,
he was off and running: “I’ll begin with the Cobb salad, no iceberg lettuce
just romaine, hold the tomatoes, oil and vinegar on the side. Serve it with a
quarter lemon wedge on each side, followed by the chicken fried steak . . .”
At this , Baseball Cap slanted him a look.
“When in Rome . . .” Ranger explained before continuing his rapid-fire
order: “No mashed potatoes, unless it’s made with real butter, which I highly
doubt, so then baked potato, plain, hold the mushy green beans. And for
desert I’ll have some peach pie, no whipped cream, vanilla ice cream instead,
on the side, in an ice-cold serving bowl.”
Ranger smirk-smiled. “I have a feeling Ms. Norma will want me to
indulge in one of her ‘famous pies,’” he air-quoted, sliding a sly look across
to Baseball Cap. “Unfortunately, I think Glasses here is impervious to my
• 28 •
charms. However, she may be”—he winked at me—“a bit sweet on you, pardon the pun.”
To my complete horror, my cheeks began burning to the degree in which
I could feel actual heat emanating from them.
Ranger jeered, “It looks like her face is about to burst into flames!”
Baseball Cap rolled his eyes but otherwise made no indication that he’d
heard the embarrassing comment.
Is it that obvious? I waited for the pagan god of pride to take pity on me and open up a hole in the floor to swallow me up. “Will that be all?”
“Will that be all, sir?” Ranger corrected before removing another one from
the dwindling supply.
“Will that be all, sir,” I ground out before spinning away.
“Oh, one more thing, Glasses . . .” Ranger’s tone stiffened my back like a
sharp pebble pelted it. “I like cherries . . . add one on top, will you?”
I nodded before continuing on to the kitchen, a defiant spring in my step.
What Mr. Superior didn’t know was that I actually had a Herculean memory.
The notepad and pen were mere props, one of Ms. Norma’s requirements
for the wait staff, but I didn’t really need it. After turning in their order and
giving Carlos the heads-up on the rush job, I grabbed the pitcher of tea to
refill their cups. I was going to prove what a model waitress I actually was.
Not that it matters what those two think, I sniffed to myself. I was just going for the tip—I deserved that tip.
On my way back out, a familiar face popped up and comically grinned
at me through the glass door. I mentally cringed. Aw man! Not now. Half-
heartedly, I returned Mr. Tatum’s smile and picked up the pace when I saw
him start my way. Mr. Tatum was a “regular” and often made a nuisance of
himself. Not only was he a shoddy tipper, but his unwanted attention was
becoming a big problem.
As soon as I hit table, Ranger rattled his cup at me. “About time,” he
said. “I was running on empty, so that’s gonna cost you.” He waved a dollar
at me, and a grin split his face, creating two slight indentions in his cheeks
that would’ve been immensely endearing on anybody else.
Did he, like, guzzle the whole thing down? I glanced at Baseball Cap’s
glass—still half full. I topped his off before refilling the guzzler with an
eye-roll. You know what? This was just so not worth the six, seven bucks left, especially when you factored in splitting it with Bee.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” Ranger called me out. “That’s gonna
cost you two more dollars—one for each eye,” he explained cheerily.
“Your order will be up in a minute,” I bit out.
• 29 •
“You giving me attitude again, Glasses?”
Before I could respond, Baseball Cap slid out of the booth and stood,
towering over me and my pitcher. He penetrated me with a look that caused
my mouth to come unhinged. “Where’s the restroom?” he inquired in a low
voice.I was so taken aback it took me a moment to find my voice. “Ummm . . .
right over there.” I gestured vaguely to the back of the dining room, where the
restrooms were clearly marked, then started to turn back to the taskmaster.
But Baseball Cap body-blocked me, thereby moving me a little farther away
from Ranger and his hostility.
“Excuse me,” I said to his blue shirt. It was about the same color as
Daddy’s overalls but didn’t seem to have the same fading effect on him or his
hair, which was the same color as honey. I got a sudden, preposterous urge to
lean in . . . and smell him.
“Can I get another lemon wedge for my tea?” he asked.
I tipped my head up to see if he was actually serious. “Ah—sure?”
“Now.” Baseball Cap left me with another meaningful look before heading
off in the direction I pointed.
I just nodded after him while I watched him walk away in those khaki
shorts. Sheesh! Was I just staring at his butt? I patted my heated cheeks and headed to the kitchen for their order and more lemons. What was with these guys and lemons?
I could feel Ranger’s eyes boring a hole into my back but focused my
attention on his intriguing friend, pondering what he might have been trying
to convey to me. But I couldn’t ruminate long because their order was up.
After grabbing the plates and the required lemons, I took a moment to arrange
them on a cold plate. Then added a few more, just for good measure, and
was making good time, until Mr. Tatum accosted me in the aisle with an
aggressive hug.
“Katie!” he thundered, breathing all over the tray of food in my hand.
“Hi, Mr. Tatum.” I gave him the stiff arm, sure there was some kind of
food code violation going on. Undoubtedly, Ranger would dock me another
couple of dollars. “Excuse me while I drop off their food. Then I’ll be right
with you,” I dismissed.
He slid his flannel arm around my shoulders, arresting my escape. “Now
how many tim
es do I gotta tell ya to call me Frank?—Mr. Tatum’s my daddy’s
name,” he said, releasing me the same time I yanked away. The sudden, jerky
movement upended the tray holding their food and artfully arranged lemons
so that it all fell to the floor with a clatter and a fat splat.
• 30 •
Dag friggin’nabit! —I’d end up owing Ranger by the end of this.
“Oh honey! Golly. I’m real sorry ‘bout that.” Clumsy hands reached to
help.Laughter (meant to convey what a pathetic loser I was) blasted from the
granddaddy booth. I didn’t even look, just let out an exasperated sigh. “Please
wait for Ms. Norma to seat you, Mr. Tatum.” My cold tone must’ve finally
registered, because Mr. Tatum slunk off like a weasel.
Humiliation clung to me, along with a thin film of sweat that just broke
out. I removed my glasses, swiped my hand across my chin, and bent down,
awkwardly, in my skirt to pick up the mess. Was busy scooping handfuls of
vomity-looking splatters when navy sneakers appeared in my line of vision. I
actually had a wad of the stuff in my hands when the owners of the sneakers
said, “Need a hand?”
Could I not just die now? Too embarrassed to actually look him in the eye, I concentrated on having a conversation with his shoes instead. They were
ones I’d never seen before, and I realized they were identical to his cohort’s.
“No thanks, I got it!” I said way more chipper than the situation required
then proceeded to scoop more goop. I was living proof that one could not, in fact, die from embarrassment.
Another cringe-worthy moment later, and my glasses dangled in front of
me. “Looking for these?”
Since he was speaking directly to me, social graces dictated I had no
choice but to meet his eyes, which were all lit up with humor to match his
tone. “Thanks.” I reached for them, realizing, too late, my hand was covered
in gloppy gravy. The thermostat that was my face grew hotter. His lips
twitched around a bit before he commandeered them.
Is he laughing at me again?
I hauled myself up, with as much dignity as I could muster under the
circumstances, only to find Baseball Cap staring at me—intimately—as if
we’d known each other for a long time. Instead of glaring, I found myself staring back.
“Waitress!” Ranger boomed, wrecking the magic moment for us.
We both blinked our eyes, but it was only me who stepped away. I was
unsure how to proceed because Baseball Cap was still holding my glasses. “I,
uh, need those,” I informed him artlessly.
He stepped forward, closing the gap between us. Butterflies swirled
around in my midsection. We were standing so close now we could’ve been
slow dancing to the country song playing in the background. Long hands
slowly lifting, he slid the glasses back over my eyes. My breath hitched in my
• 31 •
throat. And as his gaze lingered over my face, a soft, fluttery movement of another kind was going on outside of my stomach this time.
I jumped back like I was bit. Whoa! What was that? The feeling of warmth spreading through me was too much somehow. Moisture amassed in my eyes.
Baseball Cap took a step back from me now, like I was crazy. No doubt most
girls wouldn’t tear up at such a minor thing. Maybe I really was losing it? I should’ve allowed myself a good cry the other night, gotten it all out before
it could bubble up at inappropriate times.
A hot guy touches you, and you fall apart. Great, Kate! Very cool.
After my fits of temper, dropping dinner on the floor, and now
uncontrollable tears, he probably thought I needed to be fitted for a
straightjacket. Actually, my sack-like uniform, cinched in by apron strings,
looked a lot like a straightjacket. A giggle bubbled up in my throat.
Ranger yelled around a hand megaphone, “I’m not getting any younger
over here!”
Somehow, I found the dumbest line in the book funny, so I laughed
again. Hysterically. Baseball Cap looked bemused. Ranger bellowed again,
and I rolled my eyes. Baseball Cap shocked me with a grin, but I came to
when Ranger beckoned to me—a small movement made violent looking by
the obvious effort it took to restrain himself.
Leaving me with a warning look, Baseball Cap went and slid back into
his booth. Me and my mealy hands followed to see what the tyrant wanted.
Unfortunately, another giggle threatened to escape despite my best attempt
to stifle it. But the look Ranger seared me with caused the giggle to choke off
like he’d reached across the table and squeezed my neck.
“We’re ready to leave now,” Baseball Cap informed me coldly, “so please
bring the check when you come back.”
Hot and cold—these two were mercurial quick in their moods.
“More than ready,” Ranger seconded.
Stung, I did a reversal, skulking slowly back to my floor tray so I could
eavesdrop on the dynamic duo. Ranger was grilling Baseball Cap about our
“little mid-restaurant meet-and-greet.” My ears strained, but I could still hear
Baseball Cap laugh it off, saying he felt sorry for me. This was by far the most hurtful thing—like a butter knife to my gut.
Blinded by tears, I scurried back to the kitchen. It seemed the madder I
got, the stronger my urge to cry. Made it hard to read the numbers because
they were all blurring together. Oh well. What did it matter anyway? The whole dinner was comped, or more likely deducted from my paltry pay.
I was also suffering from a hollow emptiness in my stomach that couldn’t
• 32 •
be filled with food. It was a yearning for something. Like when I would go to the mall with Ashley-Leigh and see all the cool clothes I would never be able
to afford. Look but don’t touch. What did I expect? Baseball Cap was someone both out of my league and out of my town. We may as well have been from
different planets.
I was also angry at myself for allowing them to get to me. Angry for the
insecurities my station in life manifested in me. Angry that I cried in front of
them. And mostly just angry, that for a few seconds, I thought I felt something
amazing happen between Baseball Cap and me.
Pathetic! I ripped off the receipt and swiped at my tears. Here I thought
Ranger was the ass. Turned out— I was the biggest ass of all! And that was
completely intolerable to me. Kate Connel y is nobody’s fool! I thought of one of Daddy’s sayings: Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice shame on me.
I was a quick learner. Would not make that mistake again.
Ignoring Carlos’s disapproving look, I blew my nose on a napkin, wiped
my eyes, and dried my foggy glasses. I would not shed another tear for them.
Armed with my reloaded tray, I inhaled a steadying breath and stalked back
out there, no longer a mouse for the predators to play with. I had their check—
and my emotions—in hand. At the table I avoided their eyes, staring instead
at their shiny boy-toy in the parking lot.
Ranger tsk-tsked me. “Do I even need to explain this?” He ceremoniously
removed all but one of the remaining bills on the table. “I thought you might
be trainable, but clearly, even I can be wrong sometimes.”
Wordlessly, I slid the appropriate plates to the appropriate jackasses and
saw t
hey were almost out of tea again. “I’ll be right back with more tea and
some fresh lemons.”
“No need,” Baseball Cap said, “we’re leaving.”
“Would you care for anything else?” I heard the catch in my voice and
hoped they wouldn’t.
“I don’t know . . . What else you offering?” Ranger’s eyebrow lifted
devilishly.
“I brought you a receipt in case you need it for your records, but there’s
no charge for the meal,” I said tonelessly.
I thought I saw Baseball Cap start to protest then change his mind.
Whether it was to object about the bill or Ranger’s inappropriate comment,
I couldn’t tell because words never formed on his lips.
“You not even going to say goodbye then, Glasses?” It was Ranger’s
question, but Baseball Cap leaned in imperceptibly, poised for something,
• 33 •
some kind of reaction maybe, but I gave them nothing but professional courtesy.
“If that’s it then, have a nice evenin’.” I dropped the receipt on the table,
noticing neither one touched a single bite of their meals. Probably thought
that if the food didn’t poison them here then I would. Grateful to finally be free of them, I turned to go when a human handcuff closed around my wrist.
“Did you think your lesson was over just because you failed?”
Ranger. I gave him stony silence.
“Looks like she’s playing the silent game,” he observed to Baseball Cap,
who looked like he was tired of games. Or just tired. “Aren’t you wondering
about that last dollar?” More baiting, but I wasn’t biting. “I see you’re done
with me, Glasses”—he gripped my wrist tighter, preempting any attempt to
pull away—“but what if I’m not done with you yet?”
Baseball Cap cupped two hands over his visor as if he were about to make
a move but thought better of it at the last second. Probably just wishful thinking on my part. I stared out the same window as Baseball Cap now, wishing, like him, I was any other place.
“Well?” Ranger squeezed tighter in an attempt to make me bend to his
will.I gasped quietly, unwilling to give in. After a few more seconds of our
impasse, I tried pulling away. Useless. He continued the iron shackle routine
even with Ms. Norma staring at us, confused. An unconcerned Ranger gave
