Page 17 of Big Dix

I spin around the tables, buzzing with people; we are crazy busy today. “Thanks, Poppa.”

Poppa, Mama, and Abuela stopped in to see me but ended up staying to help us out. Thank goodness Abuela used to own a cafe with my abuelo. My cousin Francisco runs it now, but Poppa managed it after my grandfather’s death, so they are used to the madness.

We recently added sandwiches to our lunch menu that was previously just soups and specialty breads, and we weren’t prepared for the lunch crowd that this addition to our bakery brought in. We’ll need to hire someone to wait tables so I can stay in the kitchen and help Jen. In the meantime, I’m the serving staff. One of the perks of owning your own business—you end up doing all the jobs. My poor mama and abuela are busing tables.

I glide through the restaurant carrying the plates to the waiting customers. Thankfully the lunch rush is winding down when I hear the front doorbell chime. Without even paying attention, I say, “Seat yourself. Anywhere that’s open. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I scurry about, grabbing a pitcher, refilling drinks, passing empty plates off to Mama, making my way to the new customer. Approaching the table, I pull the pen and pad from my apron so I’ll be ready to take their order. That is, until the menu slides down, revealing who I’m face to face with.

Atticus Dixon.

“Hi, Evelyn. What do you recommend?”

I stare, dumbfounded, and he smiles that lazy, sexy sideways smile, then he winks before returning his attention to the menu.

What do I recommend? Sex with me. Hard, fast, and right now.

“Atticus Dixon! Can I have your autograph?” The tiny voice pulls me back from my dirty thoughts.

Glancing beside me, I find a young man holding a napkin and a pen out to Atticus. Atticus’s smile lights up the room as he pushes the menu aside, taking the proffered items from the boy’s tiny hand.

“Absolutely. What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Danny Jones, sir.”

“All right, Danny. Do you play football?”

The little boy’s eyes practically bug out of his head before he answers, and I can’t help but chuckle watching him talk with his hero. This little boy has stars in his eyes hanging on Atticus’s every word.

Same, kid. Same.

“Be sure you keep your grades up, Danny. Football is important, but education is life-changing.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

Atticus hands the napkin and pen back to him, and the boy runs back to his parents, smiling and beaming.

“So, what do you recommend?” Atticus smiles again, and I am a dope. Lost to him.

“Um, the BLT on an everything bagel has been a big hit today.” I smile and nibble on the tip of my pen. Smitten. I am fucking smitten.

His eyes dart to my mouth before they become hooded, and a flash of heat shoots through my system. I fan myself with my notepad.

“Sounds good. I’ll have that.”

“Drink?”

“Ice water will be fine.”

I write down his order, say a quick thanks, and I turn tail and run. His looks are disarming, but pair that with the way he interacted with that kid, and I’m pretty sure I just got pregnant.

“BLT everything, Poppa.” I slide the ticket across the counter, but Poppa stops me before I can make a quick getaway.

“Niña, who is the guy that has you smiling over there?”

How embarrassing. “No one, Poppa. He’s an American football player. He’s famous.”

“I know who he is, Niña. Who is he toyou?”

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