“Then you’re not going to hell,” Colbie said.
“But the candy bars —”
“Hey, you did your boss a favor, saved him from getting fat.”
“The top button on my jeans won’t close.” Kylie groaned and closed her eyes. “But thanks. You’re sweet. Got anything for me on the table I messed up?”
“Nothing other than it sucks big-time.”
“Yeah.” Kylie opened her eyes and sat up. “All this crappiness has got me starving. I need sustenance.”
“Did I hear someone mention food?” a twenty-something woman in a white lab coat asked, stopping at their bench.
“This is Haley,” Kylie told Colbie. “She’s an optometrist on the second floor. She’s the one responsible for Spence’s hot geeky glasses, and also for being the voice of calm reason in our group.”
“We’re going for food,” she told Haley. “Coming?”
“Can’t. I’ve got patients waiting. Have some wings for me, would ya?”
“Will do.” Kylie stood and pulled Colbie off the bench, tugging her toward the pub. “Chicken wings. Life won’t be complete until I inhale a platter of Finn’s chicken wings.”
The pub was packed and Finn was pulling out his hair. “Down a waitress,” he called to them. “I’ll get to you soon as I can.”
Colbie watched him and Sean struggle to keep up with the crowd by themselves and stood up.
“What are you doing?” Kylie asked.
“I can’t watch.”
“I can.” Kylie took in Sean bending to pick up a pallet of clean glasses, the muscles of his shoulders and back bunching beneath his T-shirt, not to mention his jeans going taut over a first-class ass.
Colbie waved Finn down, and he came over, looking distracted.
“Let me help you,” she said. She slid behind the bar and pulled on an apron. “I’ve waitressed before.”
Gratitude and worry warred on his face. “Are you sure—”
“Yep. Now go cook . . . whatever it is you’re cooking.” And she hit the tables. Delivering the drinks turned out to be easy. It was remembering to check if the food orders were ready that was a problem. Mostly this was because she found herself busy eavesdropping on conversations, fascinated by the slices of life she heard.
“. . . And so he admitted he had an extra testicle . . .”
“. . . Apparently, doing the boss’s boss is the only way to the top . . .”
“. . . Remember that time we took out the wrong colon?”
Colbie kept stopping to write down notes for herself so she wouldn’t forget anything. Problem was, she was using her order pad and stuffing the notes into her pockets and getting them mixed up with actual orders.
“Hey,” Finn called when she dropped off two new orders in the kitchen. “What’s this?”
“Um . . . two orders of sweet potato fries?” she asked.
“No, it says ‘extra testicle.’ ” He looked up at her, brows raised.
Horrified, Colbie snatched back the note and stuffed it into her pocket while pulling out her other notes to try to find the missing order. A cascade of slips fell from her pocket. “Hairy goats!”
Finn stared at her. The entire kitchen staff stared at her.
And then they all burst out laughing.
“Tell me the truth,” Finn said, grinning. “You’ve never been a waitress a day in your life, have you?”
“Hey, I was so a waitress!” She sighed. “For a while. Before I got fired . . .” She turned to get back out there and came face-to-face with Elle.
Who stood there looking killer in an ice blue dress that outlined her very outline-able curves.
Spence came in behind her and flashed a grin at Colbie. “Waitressing?”
“Helping out Sean and Finn.” She grimaced. “And not doing a really great job of it.”
“Are you kidding?” Sean asked. “You’ve been more entertaining than anything we’ve seen all season. You’re great,” he said, giving her a onearmed hug before moving out to the bar.
“Hey,” Finn called out from behind the grill, waving another order. “Who’s doing the boss’s boss? Is that code for something actually on our menu?”
Colbie grimaced again, snatched the paper back, and headed to the tables. She served Spence and Elle and Kylie, and afterward, when she’d cleared their dishes, Spence stood up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He tugged her in and gave her a goodbye kiss so hot that she nearly self-combusted on the spot, and while she was trying to remember her name, he walked off, but not before leaving her a tip.
A huge tip.
This gave her a flash of something she hadn’t seen coming—guilt. He’d left her so much cash because he thought she needed the money. Which reminded her that while they’d grown closer over the past two weeks, very close, she’d left out a big piece of herself by not telling him who she was.
But the truth was she’d not intended to tell him. This had started out as a diversion, on both their parts, so it hadn’t been necessary.
But it’d become more for her, much more, and suddenly, she wanted him to know. “Spence?”
He turned and met her gaze.
“Dinner tonight?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll come get you at seven.”
“No, I’ll come get you,” she said. “It’s my turn to cook.”
His mouth curved and the smile was in his voice as well. “I’ll be ready.”
When she was done pitching in, Finn and Sean handed her an envelope of cash.
“Wow,” Colbie said, counting through it. “Can I come work here every day?”
“Hell yeah,” Sean said.
“I’m sorry but hell no,” Finn said. “You’re great to look at and my customers loved you, but please, God, don’t come back to work tomorrow.”
Chapter 17
#HolyMacAndCheese
Colbie left the pub and walked across the courtyard. She had an hour to rejuvenate herself for her date with Spence, figure out how exactly to tell him about her pseudonym, and worry about if by doing so, she was about to blow the best thing that had happened to her in forever.
After all, ruining one’s life did run in her family.
What was it that made some people good at loving those in their lives and others self-destruct those same relationships—as her mom had with every relationship she’d ever been in? And though Colbie had always assumed she was nothing like her dad, she was starting to fear that wasn’t true at all. That in spite of herself, genes were genes.
She was thinking how much she hated that as she walked by the alley and Old Man Eddie flagged her down with a wave.
“What’s up, dudette?”
“Nothing much,” she said.
He shook his head. “No use lying to Old Man Eddie.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “I know all. And I know you’re . . . off.”
She had to laugh. “If that’s true, then you tell me why.”
“Simple,” he said and stared into her eyes. “You’re hiding your true self.”
“What?” she asked, startled at the truth of that statement.
“Yeah, you’re walking with your shoulders up to your ears and your eyes are on your feet when you walk. That tells me you’re closed off, not wanting to share yourself. You’re hiding from the world and probably yourself.”
She blinked.
He smiled. “So what did you think I meant? I’ve got a feeling whatever you’re hiding is better than that bullshit I just made up.”
Ha. He hadn’t been all that far from the mark. “Nothing. I’m just . . . tired. And maybe a little stressed.” Or you know, a lot. “I’m not hiding anything. At all. Why would I? Hide anything, that is.”
“Hmm. Say it one more time and maybe I’ll believe you.” His smile was kind as he patted the bench next to him.
She sighed and sat. “You’re deceptively laid-back, but you’re not really laid-back at all, are you?” she asked. “You’re sharp as a knife.”