Page 13 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
“With what Lila suggested, I hope you didn’t,” Debbie mutters so only I can hear. “I’ll just have you two wait here while I go make sure everything is ready for you.”
As soon as she’s gone, I whirl around to face Fischer. “She’s not going to eat you.”
“It’s not whatsheeats that I’m worried about.”
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who so readily has a response to the things I say, and he says it all without a change in his expression. Especially today, he’s got the perma-grump thing going on, which means he’s just begging for his feathers to be ruffled.
“Would you relax?” I say, stepping toward him.
He takes a step back. “You do know that no one ever relaxes when someone says that, right?”
“I’ve known Debbie since I was a kid. She used to work for my dad.”
“That doesn’t inspire confidence.”
But her food will. I grew up on this stuff, and it doesn’t matter if it’s the most hated type of food in the world; Debbie can make it taste good. “You, Mr. Price, need to learn to have a little faith in people.”
“Fischer,” he corrects as he tucks his arms behind his back. “And I’ve learned it’s dangerous to put faith in anyone but myself.”
Hmm. There must be something deeper to that, though it’s not like I can ask him about it. Maybe in a few days, after I’ve worn him down a bit. “So, you don’t trust me?”
He ducks his head, looking up at me through his gloriously long lashes. I don’t think I ever understood that phrase in books until this moment, though I’ve never heard of a man pulling that move. Regardless, Fischer does it incredibly well, and it adds an intensity to what he says next. “Have you given me a reason to trust you?”
“Okay, we’re all set!” Debbie whirls back into the lobby and offers me her arm, just like she used to do when I was a kid. I lean into her as we walk, my head against her upper arm because she’s so much taller than me. It’s not hard to be taller when I’m only five foot two.
“I miss being in your kitchen,” I say wistfully. “Leftovers aren’t the same as your cooking.”
She laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re still going out with boys every other night.”
“Sometimes it’s every night.”
Fischer makes a sound behind us that’s something between a cough and a laugh. I choose to ignore him.
“Last night was a preschool teacher,” I tell Debbie. “I had high hopes for this one, but he didn’t ask one thing about me. He just wanted to talk about the kids he teaches.” And while it was adorable, Nate from the cafe will not be getting a second date because he didn’t even ask where I work so he could send me flowers. It’s not that I’m a diva, and the flowers are starting to get old, but I want a guy who puts in some effort. If they want to go out with me again, they have to figure out where to find me because I never give out my phone number.
“I don’t understand these boys,” Debbie says with a sigh. “How could anyone not want to know everything there is to know about my little Half-pint?”
I love that she still calls me that. My Briggs siblings adopted the name as well, but Chad’s the only one who still uses it. I think it makes him feel more connected to us, using the nicknames we had as kids. Houston is Texas because of his name and big personality. Brooklyn has been Blondie since the day she was born, when she had almost white hair. Chad is Grizzly, though I shortened it to Grizz because the full thing was too hard to say when I was little. I always hoped to grow out of my name, but I pretty much stopped growing in the fifth grade.
“Have a seat, Fischer,” Debbie says as I settle on a stool. “As you can see, I’ve made up samples of everything Lila requested, as well as some alternatives for any allergy-sensitive guests you may have.”
While Debbie has made everything look as fancy as always, the cucumbers topped with chicken liver paste kind of look like cat food.
“Let’s try the bruschetta first,” I suggest, hoping we can avoid tasting the liver altogether. I pop the tomato-laden cracker into my mouth, barely suppressing a moan when the flavors hit my tongue. “Do you think I could convince my dad to hire you as my own personal chef?” I ask with a mouth full of food.
Debbie brushes my nose with her finger. “He asked me to move to Diamond Springs with him, you know.”
“What? When?”
“Before he married Stella.”
“That was like nine years ago!” And while my stepmom has become a pretty great cook since marrying my dad, she’s got nothing on Debbie. “Why didn’t you say yes?”
Debbie shifts the plates in front of us, pushing the mini crab cakes forward for us to try next. “Where would you be without me here in Sun City? I must have known you would need me.”
The crab cake is even better than the bruschetta. “Okay, yeah, you’re never allowed to leave New Mexico. You have to work with Ember Events always.”
Debbie makes a humming noise but doesn’t say anything, which has me feeling nervous. Is she thinking about cutting ties with Lila? But no, she wouldn’t do that without telling me. As if she sees my panic, she smiles and brushes my nose again. “I’ll always cater your events, Micah. Don’t you worry.”
