Page 27 of Moonlit Harbor Nights

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Terrence turn around and look at Alan, but she couldn’t see his expression. She forgot about Terrence a moment later when Alan took her hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Very happy to be back. I’d love to order that Monte Cristo sandwich again. With the secret sauce on the side.” He winked at her as if the sauce was their secret, and she laughed.

“You’ve got it! One Monte Cristo sandwich, coming right up. With the sauce.”

“Thank goodness. I was worried you might have run out.”

She shook her head, feeling proud that she’d made sure that they wouldn’t run out of the sauce. “We have the secret sauce already made, and we’re well-stocked on all the ingredients. I made sure of it. Go ahead and take a seat anywhere you like, and I’ll bring your sandwich out to you when it’s ready.”

She stepped inside the kitchen and called to Allison, “Could you make a Monte Cristo sandwich with sweet potato fries on the side?”

Allison turned around, looking confused. “That’s not our special today, and it’s not on the regular menu either. Who’s ordering it?”

“A friend of mine. I know it’s not on the menu today, but I made sure we had the ingredients for it. It’s all in the refrigerator.”

Allison gave her a quizzical look, then shrugged and smiled. “You got it, boss. Someone’s getting special treatment, I guess.”

Vivian coughed softly and left the kitchen before Allison could catch her blushing.

She went to fill a glass with water for Alan. As she was bringing it to his table, Terrence called to her. She turned, surprised.

“Yes, Terrence?” she asked briskly. “Did you need something?”

He cleared his throat. “No, I was just going to assure you that I’ll bring in that coffee for you to try. Maybe a couple of different kinds, and you can pick which one you like best.”

“That’s great, thank you.” She smiled hurriedly at him and kept walking, her thoughts entirely on Alan.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Dean set down the tool he’d been using and wiped his hands on his mechanic’s jumpsuit. He frowned, wanting to ignore the fact that his hands ached and they were trembling slightly. He hadn’t overworked himself at all that day, since he was supposed to go to the cabaret with Noelle that night, but he’d pushed himself too hard the day before, and it seemed he was still dealing with the consequences of that.

But I’ve got to finish this car,he thought, picking up the tool again.The customers are going to be here to pick it up in fifteen minutes. I’ll be okay.

He went back to work, trying to treat his hands gently in hopes that the shaking would go down. He was soon so immersed in concentration on his task, however, that he’d forgotten all about his hands. He barely noticed their ache and he forgot to take it easy, using his tool to tighten parts of the car carefully.

Before long, the car was finished, and he stood up with a sigh. It was then that he noticed how much his hands hurt, and how lightheaded he was. He grimaced, feeling a rush of dismay. He didn’t want to feel exhausted during his important date withNoelle. He wanted their night out together to be fun and special, and he’d been hoping to have plenty of energy for it.

He rubbed his hands together, willing himself to feel better. He shut his eyes, trying to picture the cabaret, and getting to eat dinner with Noelle. He felt that if he reminded himself how much fun it was going to be, his body might produce enough adrenaline to mask his symptoms.

Instead of making him feel better, however, imagining the date made him feel worse. He felt disappointed that he didn’t feel full of energy like he’d been hoping he would. He knew that he was going to struggle through every minute of the date, as much as someone would if they were violently sick with the flu or some other sickness that created body aches.

I can’t disappoint Noelle, though,he thought, gritting his teeth.Not again. And we have so many things to talk about and catch up on.

“Boss?”

Dean opened his eyes to see Keith looking at him with an expression of concern. He straightened, trying to look less ill.

“What’s up, Keith?” He smiled briskly.

Keith shook his head. “You really don’t look good. You’re pale—paler than I’ve ever seen you before. And look at how much your hands are shaking.”

Dean looked down at his hands, which were indeed visibly shaking. He pressed his lips together as a wave of fatigue passed through him, making his head reel. He was practically unsteady on his feet, and he wondered if he was safe to drive such a long distance.

Maybe he could ask Noelle to drive them there instead of him. That would probably work. But what if he fell asleep in the car? Maybe he could?—

“I think you should go home, boss,” Keith said gently. He patted Dean’s shoulder. “You’ve got to take care of yourself, you know? No plan or project is more important than that.”

The truth of Keith’s words sank in. Dean nodded, his heart sinking.

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