Page 92 of Kiss the Girl
“I get to decide that.”
I rolled my eyes, and she laughed as we slipped in through the back of the booth.
The two moms on shift immediately cooed over her. Noah turned from the cash register to shoot me a grin. The five boys working all called out some version of, “What’s up, Miss Grace!” They gave Tabitha curious glances, but I had no doubt Noah would make sure each one of them thanked her personally before their shift ended.
“How’s it going?” I asked, threading through the hustling boys to join Noah at the cash register.
“A little slow, but only because most of this line has been standing here waiting to order until Tabitha gets here. Should get crazy now.”
“How can I help?”
“Just stick with your sister and make sure she’s happy. We’ve got the cooking down, I think.”
Tabitha wanted to start by checking their set up and testing their hand pies. I thought DeShawn might split his face grinning when she pronounced his football-shaped hand pie to be “super tasty.”
“I’m going to make a slight recommendation,” she said. “I think you need to add some grated sharp cheddar to each one. Sounds nuts, but I promise it will work.” She pointed to one of the boys. “Can you run over to the market and get every bag of shredded cheddar they have? Let them know Tabitha Winters will stop by later to pay for it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and darted out of the booth to go get the cheese.
“Cheddar? Now I’m curious,” Noah said. “Nice to meet you, by the way.”
I cleared my throat. I would have gotten to the introduction. Eventually. “Noah, this is my sister, Tabitha. Tabitha, this is—”
“Your boyfriend, Noah. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
She would pay for that. She knew I couldn’t correct her with the team listening. Noah’s eyebrow arched up for a split second before he smiled and went back to ringing up orders.
Hot, she mouthed at me.
I grabbed her arm and hauled her over to the order window next to Noah, which was not where I wanted to leave her, but it was where she needed to be for her adoring fans. “Behave,” I told both of them. They exchanged glances that were a full conversation all by themselves. I was doomed.
“You know what,” I said, taking Tabitha’s arm again. “Never mind. It’ll work better if you stand outside the booth, ready to take pictures with people when they get their orders.”
“Scared?” Tabitha taunted, and Noah grinned like an idiot.
“You only think this is funny because you’re also an older sibling,” I complained.
“I think it’s funny because it’s funny,” he said. “You trying to keep your sister from your boyfriend is premium comedy.”
Another stomach swoop at hearing him refer to himself as my boyfriend. Didn’t matter that my brain knew it was a show. My stomach would do what it wanted.
I half-dragged Tabitha out of the booth. The people in line began waving as soon as she appeared. I positioned her in front of the booth for the best backdrop, then turned to the line. “When you get your order, you can stand next to Tabitha for a picture. Ask a friend in line to take it for you. She says these hand pies will be even better with cheddar, so you can wait for the cheese to arrive in about fifteen minutes, or you can get a no-cheddar hand pie now. If you want to wait, keep shuffling backward in line until the no-cheese people are up front.”
This set off a bunch of dad jokes about “I’m cheesy, moving back” until the line reshuffled and the orders began flying. Within a few minutes, the picture madness had begun.
And by madness, I meant that everyone was nice and cheerful like people in Creekville always are. Tabitha kept the picture line moving while still making each person feel like they’d gotten special attention. Did we even share the same gene pool? She was six inches taller than me, extroverted, and happy working a crowd. I’d rather hide my short self inside the booth and work on the logistics, so after a few minutes, I did, stationing myself at the inside corner nearest her in case she needed me. Then I took over pouring and capping the apple cider cups since the boys kept splashing it everywhere.
Tabitha had been right about the cheddar, of course, and the line grew even longer as people who had bought hand pies last night lined up to try the new version and check out the hometown celebrity.
About an hour into it, a new shift of boys came in, and it stalled the line until we got them all situated. Noah put Grant in charge of the register since he worked as a cashier at the market part-time, then came over to join me serving cider.
“Heads up,” he said. “Dr. Boone is about halfway back in line.”
I spotted her with her husband. “Show time?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
I wasn’t because it meant he touched me more, and when I needed to get past him for more cups, I put my hands around his waist and moved him out of the way instead of asking politely, my fingers brushing against his taut abs. When he wanted to hand a customer some cider, he stood right behind me, his chest against my back, curving his arm around me to hand it to them instead of waiting for me to move.
