Page 14 of Believe it or Knot

Guilt gnaws at me as I turn to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… They didn’t exactly want me to announce their presence, you know?”

She folds her arms over her chest and sniffs. “I suppose that makes sense.”

I smile at her grudging tone. “Tell you what, if they come back, you’ll be the first to know.”

They won’t come back.

“Fine. Apology accepted.” Her arms drop and a wide smile curls her lips. “What were they doing in town?”

I hit the button on the till and pretend to count the drawer, even though I already did it. “I think they were just on a drive in the country. Their car broke down not far from my place and they needed to call for a tow.”

“Oh, but Budd was having a sciatica flare up!” He always is.

I nod. “Right, so it took them longer than expected to get the tow and so I fed them dinner. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Not. A. Big. Deal?” She sounds flabbergasted by that statement. “How is having the biggest celerity in the work in your house not a big deal?”

I shrug and don’t look at her. “Haven’t you seen the articles, Annie? Celebrities are just like us!”

She laughs, like I hoped, and shakes her head. “I still think it’s kind of a big deal.”

I think it is too.

“Well, regardless, I doubt they’ll be back. However, hundreds of people will soon be swimming in our beautiful lake and needing sustenance. We need to be ready.”

She huffs and gets to work, even though I can tell she wants to grill me more.

The day progresses in its normal routine. Burgers, fried foods, soft serve, milkshakes.

I’ve made a few changes since my parents passed away and I inherited the business. Most of them centered on where we source the food from. As much as I can, I try to get local ingredients. All the vegetables are from a farm about an hour away. The buns are baked in a little bakery in Kilrose and the cheese is from a local dairy farmer, unless someone wants American. Then it’s Kraft all the way.

I had hoped to switch to local meat as well, but the price on it is just out of the realm of possibility right now and I definitely can’t afford it. Though we do grind all the meat and form the patties ourselves.

Or I should say ‘myself’, because I’m the only one that does it.

I’d hoped that making these slight changes would be enough to help me feel more in control, less like the business my parents loved running is a noose around my neck. But nothing seems to help.

The number one reason for that?

The Stillwell pack.

No matter what I do, I can’t escape them.

A shiver works over my spine as I think about the interactions I’ve had with them in the past. The threats. The demands. The promises that feel more like shackles around my feet, I’ll never escape.

Speak of the devil.

I look up as the bell over the door dings, and then freeze, my spatula hovering over the sizzling beef patty on the grill in front of me. Not for the first time, I resent the kitchen wasn’t designed with the grill facing the back of the Snack Shack.

“Sorrel,” the viper who just entered purrs, eyes running from the top of my hair pulled into a messy bun, down my sweaty t-shirt, and to my cut-off shorts. “You look tasty as ever.”

I grit my teeth and resist the urge to snarl. “Stephen.”

Annie looks between the two of us, her teeth sunk into her lower lip. The last thing I want is for her to leave, but she’s obviously uncomfortable, and she’s only seventeen and my employee. There are no customers besides the ass staring at me with a possession that makes me feel dirty, and not in a good way. Stephen Stillwell isn’t her problem, he’s mine. I flip the burger and then look at her. “Annie, can you go wipe down tables for me?”

She lets out a relieved breath and nods. “Of course, Sor.” A second later, she’s out the door carrying a spray bottle, a clean rag and gray plastic bin to grab any bottles or cans left behind by the customers.

I don’t look up as Stephen moves closer to the register, leaning his forearms on the counter. His gaze runs hungrily over me as I add cheese to the patty, squirt a little water next to it and then cover it with a metal bowl. I ignore him as I leave the cheese to melt and move to prep the buns.

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