Page 1 of Shake Your Love
Chapter One
Pierce
How someone eats their eggs tells a lot about them.
Scrambling eggs on the griddle next to a burger and some pancakes, I decide food itself gives clues to a person. Being a cook gives me insight into most of Pine Grove. Half the town comes to The Shake Shack on a regular basis, giving me a chance to get to know them through their order.
Brenden, my best friend, is a meat and potatoes guy—the pot roast, or the morning sampler with ham, sausage, and bacon, are his go-to orders. A slightly reserved, quiet man whose turns beast for the right reasons. A caveman if you will, because he turns downright barbaric over his old lady.
Reggie, the sports memorabilia shop owner from next door, prefers his eggs runny enough to dip his toast in. He comes in at eight am sharp, eats while filling out a crossword puzzle, and finishes off three cups of coffee before he goes to open his store. All his meals, eaten here, are part of his habit, part of his day-to-day routine.
“Stop judging their orders, Pierce,” Imelda teases as she watches me through the pass through.
Grinning, I bounce a shoulder as I plate the order she is waiting for. It is a slow Tuesday afternoon, so judging orders is all I’ve got today. Turning up the radio to hear the new Def Leopard song, I spin back to the griddle. As I flip the burger, for Dale our Sherriff—three slices of cheese, mayo andextrapickles—I wonder what my own tastes tell others about me.
For me, a fluffy frittata with fresh herbs and veggies, some fresh squeezed orange juice, and smokey sausages would be aperfectbreakfast. I cook because I love food, I love flavors and I love making food others love. I have big tastes, yet I often settlefor the scraps.
At twenty-five, I came back home to Pine Grove after finishing culinary school. To be closer to my mother and sister. To open my own place in a town lacking diverse flavors. That was two years ago. Now I am just a lead cook at Shake Shack which is to say I flip pancakes and burgers for little pay and less respect.
“Order up Imelda,” I call after carefully putting together the burger.
Piling the plate high with fries, I sprinkle a little of my secret spice blend over the fries. Customers love my hand cut fries with that dash of spice. It is my secret weapon to keep them coming back to the diner.
“You got it,” Imelda calls as she grabs the burger from the pass.
Glancing past her, I hesitate for a moment. Outside it is pouring out, the skies gray, the sunshine blotted out by thick clouds. There is something in the air that makes me forget about the eggs and bacon sizzling behind me. I step from behind the pass, towards the front counter. And I am glad I do.
Blowing in with a huge gust of rain and heavy wind is a vision unlike I have ever seen. Thick blond hair hangs down in damn, kinked waves, framing a beautiful face. The wind kicks up her pleated pink skirt, showing off creamy thighs. With a laugh, she grabs at her skirt to stop it from blowing higher and giving us a real show.
Stepping back from the stove, I lean back to get a good look at her. I’ve never seen her before. I would remember a woman who looks like...that. She could be a movie star. All that thick, wavy blonde hair, soft green eyes that light up as she continues to laugh. Almost bouncing to the counter, she takes a seat, pulls down a menu and gives it a good look.
“How can I help, darlin?” Imelda asks, popping her gum asshe readies to take the order.
“How about,” the starlet looker tilts her head as she sets the menu aside. I like it, going off menu. “Two pieces of French toast, some French fries, and at least five pieces of bacon. Can I do that?”
“Sure can. Coming right up.”
Backing up before she sees me, I duck behind the pass through to catch my breath. I never take my eyes off her as I start putting bacon down. Still watching as I throw in a batch of fries, I wonder why my heart is beating so fast. Why do my hands shake as I dunk thick Texas toast into my creamy toast batter?
Looking up from the menu, those green eyes lock on me for a moment. My heart really starts to pound. I almost drop the spatula I am flipping the golden bread with. A slow smile spreads across her face as she notices me being flustered. I smile too, bowing my head.
I am not good with women. I’ve never dated much or considered settling down at all. After my — abandoned us before he even walked out the door, I feared I would be no better. How could I risk hurting someone the way he had hurt all of us? I thought it best I never gave dating a shot.
“Who’s the new doll, dude?” Imelda asks with a jerk of her head.
“You think I would know a woman that looks like that?”
Imelda laughs, shaking her head at me. One of the reasons I haven’t left the Shake Shack is how good the folks here are. We have a good time, even if I am slinging burgers and fries or she is making bad coffee and sweet milkshakes. Shooting me a look, she says what I expect her to.
“Any girl would be lucky to know you, Pierce.”
“Don’t you know I am just holding out hope for you to take notice, Imelda,” I tease her with a wink, laughing when sheflutters her lashes.
“If I had not married my own prince charming, I might consider it.”
Laughing, I shake my head again, flipping bacon for the new girl. I get lost for a moment, wondering how I ended up here. I always loved cooking. It was me feeding us at home, making elaborate meals out of ramen or mac n cheese. Cooking was my way of taking care of the people I loved.
The dream was never cooking, it was to get out of Pine Grove on a scholarship to play football. A broken knee and busted elbow shot that dream down. It’s been nowhere jobs ever since—bus boy, line cook, now head cook. Loving to cook makes it easier to pretend I have something.
