Page 43 of Cherry Picked
Katey turned away from a conversation with Tom, the line cook, a residual frown on her face. “Yeah, okay. But hey, is it alright with you if I duck out early tomorrow afternoon if that storm is still coming through like they’re predicting? My dog doesn’t handle big storms very well.”
“Storm?” I reached for the plates Tom had lined up for me. “Who said anything about a storm?”
Katey and Tom exchanged a look.
“Boss, that’s all most folks’ve been talking about all morning,” he informed me, which was either patently false or my ears had become antennae that only tuned in to Hawk-related programming. “Big baddie with high winds and heavy rain. Remember that microburst that happened in Addison a few years ago? Weathermen say they’re way more common than tornadoes. Bring your pets inside.”
Katey nodded. “You should probably keep an eye on conditions and consider closing early so everyone can get home.”
As I walked back out to deliver the order to my customers, my brain entered a well-organized spiral serving up varied and detailed images of a lone camper in a tent on an exposed mountain ridge getting sucked up into a weather vortex and transported violently into the afterlife.
“It’s fine,” I assured myself as I brought MaryPat Fishbaugh her lunch order. “No one is dying over this.”
MaryPat looked up from her mushroom-and-swiss panini with a side of orzo summer salad. “Uh. Sure hope not, Jack. But everything looks real good.”
I made a vague gesture of apology and turned away.
Everything did not, in fact, look real good. When the lunch rush died down and I finally had enough free time to pull out my phone and search the weather, I discovered the forecast was just as perilous as Katey and Tom had suggested. There was no way Hawk could continue to live in a tent on Glassy Ridge. Someone needed to talk him down, and since Webb wouldn’t get involved, it had to be…
Crys plunked herself down on the bench across from me at the corner booth where I was supposed to be entering supply orders into my laptop. “Hey, are you posting an ad for Hawk’s job? Because Chris who works at the Tavern might be free for a couple lunch shifts a week.”
I glanced up in confusion. “Don’t you already work here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not me. I mean other-Chris. The Clark Kent hottie with the glasses and the questionable fashion choices? You’ve met him,” she assured me when I continued to stare at her blankly. “When you and Hawk were sitting at the bar watching that Maine regatta thing a few weeks back, he was the one making your drinks. No bells ringing? He was eating here the other day, when Hawk quit… really? Not a single recollection?”
“I was a little distracted that day,” I reminded her.
She snorted. “Yeah. Well, once you actually notice him, you’ll see he’sdistractinglygorgeous. Might be a problem.”
“For whom?”
“Foryou? For anyone with eyes who’s attracted to men?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “I haven’t dated anyone in months, and I didn’t notice your friend at all. I think he’d be safe from me.”
“Months? Is that so?” When she tilted her head, her pink hair flopped to one side. “Wonder why that is.”
I had no time for whatever games she was attempting to play. “In any case, it doesn’t matter because Hawk’s coming back.” I clicked the Enter button to submit the last order. “Sooner rather than later since there’s a storm coming in. In fact, you should probably hike up there today. Make sure Hawk knows about it so he has time to evacuate.” If my voice sounded as casual as I hoped it did, it would be a miracle.
“Please. There’s no way Hawk’s leaving. Did you know he’s staked out signs all along the main hiking trail at the top, and he’s been standing there every day educating tourists and locals about Evola’s deforestation efforts? He’s already got forty thousand followers on his new Instagram.”
“Really?” The man was pigheaded as heck about the development, but I couldn’t help the flush of pride that warmed my chest knowing my Hawk was standing up for what he believed in… and people were taking notice. “Good. He’s bringing awareness to it, which will at least keep Evola on their toes. They’ll have to play by the rules under that kind of public scrutiny.” I shut my laptop with aclick. “But you still need to convince him to take a break during the storm. He shouldn’t be alone up there.”
“A little rain won’t hurt him.” Crys set her chin. “If he won’t come off the mountain so Simon can rail him into his mattress, Jack, he’s not coming down for a summer storm.”
I blinked. “His… he… what?”
“Oh, didn’t Hawk tell you?” Crys’s mouth twisted to one side. “No, I guess he wouldn’t have had the chance, would he? Yeah, Simon asked him out. And you should see the flirty texts Simon’s been sending! So many erotic emojis.” She fake-gagged. “Hawk’s all adorable and flustered about it, of course, but the man isprimedfor devirgination, and I think they could be really good together. They’re both passionate about environmental stuff. As dudes go, they’re both smoking hot. Can’t you just picture them together? Plus, Hawk’s in his reach-out-and-take-what-you-want era. He doesn’t have time for people who make excuses. Simon’s been very, very clear that Hawk is what he wants.”
I opened my mouth, but a paralyzing chill went down my spine—Can’t you just picture them together?—and I was very afraid I might vomit, so I closed it again.
“You know…” Crys tapped her lip thoughtfully with one chipped fingernail. “You might be onto something, though. Maybe Simon could go ride out the storm up there with him. You know Hawk has a thing for those books where the two characters are stuck sharing a room in a blizzard… What do you call those?”
“Forced proximity,” I said in a nearly inaudible whisper.
She snapped her fingers. “That’s it! And Simon probably knows tons about storm hazards since he’s an environmental dude. He might even be trained in CPR, so, like, if one of them got struck by lightning, he could perform mouth-to-mouth…”
I swallowed thickly.
