Baby, Don't Go. Stephanie Bond

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СКАЧАТЬ Terri scooted past him with a coffeepot. “Are the biscuits done?”

      Marcus peeked into the oven to find it empty. Damn—he’d forgotten to put them in. “Not yet.”

      A third waitress named Gina walked up and extended a half-empty plate of food. “The guy at table six said his steak was too well-done—he ordered medium rare.”

      Marcus noticed it hadn’t kept the man from eating half of the T-bone. He tamped down his frustration and glanced toward the cook-wanted sign in the window. “Gina, can you cook?”

      “No,” she said definitively.

      “Do you know anyone who can?”

      “No.”

      He frowned. “Somebody in this town must cook—what does everyone eat at the boardinghouse?”

      “Mac and cheese, frozen dinners, pizza and Crock-Pot stuff.” She gestured to the crowded tables. “Why do you think this place is so packed, especially now that everyone knows it’s under new management?”

      He grunted.

      “Still waiting for bacon!” Sheila called.

      “And the biscuits,” Terri added.

      “What about the steak?” Gina asked.

      He massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’ll fix another one.” This time, he’d leave it bleeding.

      He sent another glance toward Alicia, only to find the woman bent over retrieving a pen from the floor. He hardened his jaw. She wore a pair of red shorts that were too short, in his opinion, no matter how nicely they hugged her derriere. And who wore high-heeled sandals to work in? Sure, they made her long legs look great, but they weren’t very practical. And thank goodness the apron she wore covered the T-shirt that was tight enough to remind him of the display he’d seen yesterday at the creek.

      As if he needed a reminder.

      The images had kept him awake most of the night, grinding his teeth against his body’s reaction.

      She straightened, then headed his way, tucking her notebook into her pocket. Her hair was still in those silly pigtails. She walked up, then wrinkled her nose. “Something’s burning.”

      He glanced down at the eggs and at the sight of the blackened edges, muttered a curse before scraping them all into the food waste canister.

      “Someone’s not paying attention,” Alicia teased.

      The words leapt to his tongue that his attention span had been fine before she came to town and started taking baths in the wild and wearing short shorts. Marcus closed his eyes. His lack of sleep— also her fault—was wearing on him. He opened his eyes, but averted his gaze.

      “I need another dozen eggs from the kitchen, plus a T-bone steak and a tray of biscuits.”

      “Sure thing, boss.”

      He tucked his tongue into his cheek. His workers called him “boss” all the time…so why did it sound mocking coming out of her curvy red mouth? He tried to force his mind away from the woman and concentrate on the orders that were coming in. The three waitresses were tossing around slang he could barely decipher.

      “Flop two, over easy.” (Two fried eggs, runny yoke.)

      “Heart attack on a rack.” (Biscuits and sausage gravy.)

      “Two pigs in a blanket.” (Sausage links wrapped in pancakes.)

      He was on the verge of throwing up his hands when Alicia returned with the promised food from the kitchen. She glanced over the food orders written on tickets posted over the grill. “I’ll do the eggs and pancakes if you’ll take care of the meat.”

      Her closeness unnerved him.

      She looked supremely annoyed. “Do you want my help or not?”

      He frowned. “Okay.”

      She stepped next to him and, bristling, they worked practically hip to hip. Marcus was aware of every inch of her…and how was it possible that her light, sweet perfume cut through the strong odors of the food cooking?

      He’d never thought of arms as sexy, but hers were—long and shapely, ending in pretty hands that seemed better suited to office work than the harsh environment of handling food and detergents. Her slim bare wrist reminded him of the bracelet he’d found in the creek, the one he was still trying to find a way to return to her without raising a red flag.

      She sighed. “What?”

      He turned his head, a mistake because this close, her big brown eyes were so deep, he almost tripped. “What?”

      Alicia frowned. “You’re staring at my hands, so I’m obviously doing something wrong.”

      He scrambled for an excuse. “You shouldn’t turn pancakes more than once.”

      Her shoulders went back. “Really? Is that another town rule? I’ve never seen so many rules in my life as this place has.”

      He frowned. “No, it’s not a rule. It’s just something my mother always said.”

      Her shoulders softened. “Oh.” She turned back to the grill and loosened the cooking eggs with a metal utensil. “Is your mother still living?”

      “Yes.”

      “Does she live here?”

      “No.”

      Alicia gave a little laugh. “Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth.”

      He squinted. “Why do you want information?”

      “I don’t. I mean…I was just making conversation.” She looked away, and Marcus felt like a jerk.

      “After the tornado, she moved north of Atlanta to live with her sister,” he offered. “But she’s moving back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend.”

      “That’s nice,” she mumbled.

      He’d hurt her feelings—Jesus, women were sensitive. “It’s sort of a milestone for all of us,” he added, turning the sausage. “One of the reasons we wanted to rebuild the town was so my mother could come back home.”

      Her expression turned wistful. “Your family must be close.”

      “We are,” he conceded. “My father passed away when I was a teenager, but my brothers and I are close to our mother.” He kept turning the food, and suddenly missed her conversation. “Do you have family?”

      She took her time responding. “I have my parents. They divorced when I was young.”

      “I’m sorry,” he murmured, unable to imagine a life where his parents hadn’t lived together and loved each other.

      Another shrug. “Some people just aren’t meant to be together. СКАЧАТЬ