Page 12 of Best Laid Plans

Natalie’s reactions are so foreign, so fucking strange, that I feel like we should stick a pin in this topic and save it for when it’s just the two of us. Sure as shit not on my first day as her boss, in front of all of her coworkers.

“Let’s grab coffee one day this week and catch up.” I know she’s going to turn me down, so I pivot and saunter back to the front of the dining room in hopes of getting this meeting back on track. Though, judging from the whispers among the staff, I can see there’s a fat fucking chance of that happening.

* * *

Nate and I have been trying like hell to get together, and tonight our schedules have finally aligned. We’re hitting up Bennet’s for a few drinks. It’s pretty chill, seeing as it’s a Monday night. Honestly though, after today’s orientation meeting, a laid-back atmosphere works for me.

I stroll in at a quarter after seven and damn if this place doesn’t look exactly the same as it did when we used to sneak our underage asses in here. I scan the space looking for Nate, and sure enough, he’s seated at the bar sipping on his drink. He sees me and tips his chin in greeting. I cross the room and he stands, reaching out to shake my hand, but I pull his ass into a hug.

“It’s been too long,” I tell him as we break away.

“That it has. Catching up here and there wasn’t working.”

“I’m home and have no plans to leave.”

“Look at us, living out our dreams.”

I chuckle at his words, but damn if he isn’t right. For as long as I can remember, Nate’s wanted to be a cop. The desire to protect and serve flows through his veins the same way food flows through mine.

“How is it, being the local bacon?”

“Oink, oink, motherfucker. I’m living the dream.”

“Glad to hear it. I will be, too, once I get Bayside up and running how it should be.”

“Got big plans?” he asks, drumming his nails on the wooden bar top.

I flag down the bartender and order a Jack and Coke and pass him a ten-dollar bill. He returns with my drink and change, which I leave for him—if there’s one thing the food industry has taught me, it’s not to skimp on the gratuity.

“Hell yeah. You remember Carlos?” I ask, knowing it’s a toss-up whether he will or not.

“I…I think so. He was a grade behind us, right? Always up at the café?”

“Yeah, that’s right. His mom worked there, and he went up there with her since she was a single mom. My grandparents kind of took him under their wing. Dude is as invested in Bayside as I am, and the minute he heard Don wanted to sell, he tracked me down on Facebook and that was it.”

I sip at my drink. “I was already stateside, visiting my parents in Florida until I figured shit out, and this was just too good. The timing was perfect—I mean, shit, I came into the trust fund my grandparents left right as the café goes up for sale. Fucking kismet.”

Nate signals for another round of drinks. “Please God, tell me you’re fixing the menu.”

“Hell yes. The minute I signed that paperwork I started crafting it. Gonna start implementing it as soon as I get my kitchen sorted.”

“Glad to hear it. Natalie will be too.”

“Speaking of, she’s all grown up now, huh?”

Nate eyes me a little oddly. “Yeah, that’s what happens. Time passes, we grow old, we die.”

I bark out a laugh. “Jesus. Morbid much?”

He shrugs that classic Nate Reynolds shrug.

Our conversation turns from the here and now to reminiscing about the past, and I can’t help but smile. Especially when Nate brings up one of my favorite memories of life here—even if it is for all the wrong reasons.

“You been to the river yet?”

“Nah, not yet. Man, we used to tear it up out there.”

He lifts his drink to me, and we clink them together. “Hell yeah, we did.”

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