Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“Yes. Give me a minute.” I let myself into the house, grabbed my extra key from a drawer in the kitchen, and brought it outside. “If it’s too much trouble to get my car back here tonight, I can just walk to the diner in the morning. It’s not far.”
“It’s no trouble.” He took the key from me, and our fingers brushed briefly. “I’ll leave it in the driveway and put your key in the mailbox.”
“Thank you.” I hesitated, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Um, my car is . . . not nice.”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I mean, really, it’s a shit show. As soon as I can afford something better, I’m going to get rid of it.”
“You should have seen the piece of crap I drove around in L.A. before I got Malibu Splash.” He grinned. “I guarantee your car is nicer.”
“I doubt it. But anyway, thanks for everything tonight.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I was there to help.” He glanced toward his SUV. “Guess I’ll take off.”
“Okay.”
But he didn’t leave. We stood there looking at one another for a few more seconds while crickets chirped in the dark. My heart began to beat faster, and I realized I was holding my breath. When he reached out with one arm, I sort of leaned forward, expecting a hug, but all he did was tug one of my curls.
A total big brother move.
“Night, Sugar,” he said with a grin.
“Night.” Embarrassed, I hurried inside the house.
My alarm went off at five. Since I couldn’t get my left hand wet yet, I skipped a shower, sprayed my head with dry shampoo, and managed to get my hair into a sloppy bun. Getting my uniform zipped was a bit of a struggle, and it wasn’t done all the way up, but I figured I could ask for help when I got there. I went for flats since there was no way I could tie the laces on my sneakers.
Putting my makeup on wasn’t too bad—thankfully, I was right-handed—and I was able to leave home on time. At least I wasn’t scheduled to work in the kitchen. No way would I be able to handle all the chopping, scrambling, flipping, and prepping on the line.
As Dash had promised, my car was in the driveway when I went outside. I reached into the mailbox, and the key was there, along with a note written in plum-colored ink on the back of a Starbucks receipt, which had probably been on the floor in my front seat.
Your check engine light is on. You should get that looked at. Hope your hand is okay. Dash
Sticking the note in my bag, I hurried over to my car. When I started it up and heard the horrendous noise it made, I winced.
On the three-minute drive to Moe’s, I wondered when I’d see him next. Cherry Tree Harbor was a small town, so surely I’d run into him, unless he planned to hide out. At the very least, I’d see him at Devlin’s wedding, which was three weeks away.
Mabel was coming home for it, and she had asked me to come along as her date. Suddenly I wished I could afford a new dress, something pretty and sexy. Something that would turn Dashiel Buckley’s head. Make his eyes pop a little.
Stop it, I scolded myself. Just because he was nice to you last night and you decided to be friends doesn’t mean you should dig up all your old feelings. Leave them six feet under, where they belong.
At ten to six, I let myself into Moe’s back door and called hello to the baker as I walked through the kitchen. I had just stuck my bag and sweater in the office when a text came in from Gerilyn, who was scheduled to waitress during the breakfast shift.
My heart fell as I read it.
Hey I’m so sorry but my mom had a bad fall and broke her hip. I’m with her at the hospital. She’ll be fine, but I can’t work this morning.
It’s okay! I’m so sorry to hear the bad news, and I hope your mom heals fast. I’ll get your shift covered today. Let me know how she’s doing when you can. Thinking of you!
I sent a few emergency texts to our other waitstaff, but I wasn’t too hopeful that anyone would be up and eager to run into work at six in the morning on a Sunday when they hadn’t been scheduled. That meant I’d have to cover, and I only had one good hand.
But it would be fine. I’d been through worse.
Quickly, I started running through all the usual morning tasks. Doing a POS system check, ensuring the credit card machine was functioning, putting on the coffee, writing out the specials, sanitizing the surfaces. I greeted the cooks, who were firing up the grills and fryers, explaining that service might be a little slow today, but I was going to do my best.