Page 15 of Love Me Boldly

Me: We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

I tossed my phone to the couch, grabbed my water and television remote, and pretended that hadn’t just happened. That I hadn’t flirted back.

That I wasn’t interested in this guy. Not even a little bit.

* * *

I usedmy key to unlock the back door of The Premiere Grille, what most locals simply called The Grille. One of the first two restaurants in Deer Creek, it was a staple in town, and my grandparents on my mother’s side had proudly bought it and taken it over when my mom and her sister, Caroline, were young girls. They grew up in this restaurant that was more of a diner than fine dining, and on the days I wasn’t with my father, I was in the office, working on school work. As soon as I was old enough, I started washing dishes. Every year older I grew, more age-appropriate responsibilities came my way.

By now, I could walk through this restaurant blindfolded and find my way to every cooking station and weave around every table and booth without so much as stubbing a toe.

Inside, I shook off the shivers from the frigid cold air outside and unwrapped my scarf. I took the first right into the back office. Caroline’s scattered and messy office was piled with a mess of over-orders and folders. Every spare inch of space was covered in something, so I took one pile and set it on top of another. It was precariously close to tipping, but fortunately, the weight of my purse, coat, and gloves on the table didn’t send it tumbling to the floor.

Although organizing papers might end up being more productive than working out front, it was Saturday, which meant all hands on deck.

I grabbed a server’s apron, tied it around my lower back, and gave Caroline’s office one last scan. Soon, I’d start working on her taxes, and while I was doing so, I’d get this place cleaned and organized.

My aunt fell in love with this restaurant from the very beginning. She not only owned and managed it now, but she spent time cooking, prepping, and serving. It was in her blood.

For my mother, it’d been a job. One she apparently hadn’t liked enough in the end.

For me, it was a means to an end. There was peace in this restaurant, memories of my entire life, both good and bad. But in the end, the bad outweighed the good, and this wasn’t where I wanted to stay forever.

I waved hello to the cooks and the dishwasher, checked the salad station to make sure it was stocked, and found everything cleaned, filled, and ready to go for the day.

Pushing open the swinging metal doors that separated the kitchen from the dining area, I gave the restaurant another scan on instinct. A plastic bin was overflowing with napkin-rolled silverware. Next to it, the water glasses were stacked, and the trays were ready to grab and go. Tables were cleaned. Everything was pristine and set up for the day.

Caroline was talking to one table of two retired teachers. The women came in every Saturday between the breakfast and lunch rushes and spent hours sipping coffee and talking about whatever books they had stacked off to the side. It was their own weekly book club, and there was something endearing about watching them and hearing their laughter.

The front door opened, and a tabletop of six greeted me, three men and three women. And so the weekend began…

“Hi, welcome to The Premier Grille. Six of you today?” I started piling menus into my arm.

“Eight actually,” the gentleman said. “We’re still waiting for two.”

“Sounds good.” I gave him a smile and led them to an area where I could quickly pull two four-top tables together. The men helped, and soon, they weren’t the only ones entering the restaurant for lunch.

Luckily, we were busy, and I didn’t have to spend all day thinking about last night’s dinner. The flowers still sitting on my kitchen counter, the floral scent that filled my trailer, or the late-night flirtatious texts Graham and I had sent.

By the time we were midway through the dinner rush, I was finally able to catch my breath. Weekends at The Grille went either way. Sometimes it was full of locals, making my job difficult, or it was full of weekend vacationers who needed to come down from the mountain and get some food.

Tonight it was the latter, which meant my tip pocket in my apron was bulging. Things were good. I still had three tables, and then I’d be able to go grab my own meal.

I glanced at the door and immediately cringed as our weekend hostess, Emma, walked to the hostess stand.

Mia and Hannah, two girls from my high school, walked in, unzipping their coats as they reached her. “Two, please,” Hannah said. “Andnotin her section.”

She skewered me with a look that had long since stopped hurting. She didn’t hate me because of my dad. She hated me because in seventh grade Corey Franklin asked me to the middle school dance, and she’d had a crush on him. Ironic that Mia was now engaged to that same boy, and they were still best friends.

Whatever. I rolled my eyes and walked away, going back to help a table thatalwaysrequested my section, tipped well, and didn’t hold a single thing against me.

“Still having trouble with that?” Eddie Ferentz asked and glanced at the women Emma sat in her section instead. He was one of Deer Creek’s police officers, one of the men who’d showed up at my trailer after the accident to let me know about my dad. Across from him was his partner, Cole Paxton.

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head.

“We can help, you know.”

I smirked at Cole and refilled his water. “What are you going to do? Arrest them for unkindness?”

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