Page 27 of Hopeless Romantic
“Sure it is. Place ad. Swipe right. Then right again. Before you know it, your problems will be solved. I’m only here a few hours a week, and even I can tell the place is suffering.”
Levi rested his head in his hands. “I know. Things are slipping through the cracks. Mistakes are happening. Michelle handled all this shit.” Levi lifted a stack of invoices and résumés. “I ran the bar, handled alcohol orders, and spent the rest of the time running the marina.”
“I’m the last one who should be saying this, since I can’t seem to take my own advice, but no one’s asking you to replace Michelle,” Emmitt said softly. “And she’d have your ass if she knew how stubborn you were being.”
“Diligent. And I’ve got a new bartender coming in tomorrow, before opening, so I can start training him.”
“You might want to be diligent a little faster. It’s already filling up out front.”
“Can you handle things for a few?”
“No can do. I’m picking up takeout, then headed right back to the free clinic. Paisley’s helping Annie with filing to fulfill some of her community-service requirement, and we were all hungry for burgers and steak.”
Levi crossed his arms. “Funny. We don’t do takeout.”
“Sure you do.” Gray gave a shit-eating grin. “Just ask Beckett.”
At the mention of her name, his pulse picked up. Which was all kinds of ridiculous. She hadn’t stopped by to sweet-talk him into breaking the rules since Pecker-gate. “That was our official last takeout order.”
“You might want to let Gus know that. He’s been hooking Emmitt and me up with meals for months. Even gives me the friends-and-family discount.”
“You didn’t, by chance,friends-and-familyyourself to a case of some hard-to-find Syrah? Or know someone who did?”
“No, but I do love a good Syrah. I’ll help myself to a bottle on the way out.” Gray stood, smoothing down his bright blue, impeccably clean scrubs.
“Can you not wear your surgery gear to the restaurant? People look at you, and all they can think about is needles and oozing fluids. Doesn’t really set the right mood.”
“I’ll try to remember for next time. Oh.” He patted the pocket of his scrub pants. Then the other. “I almost forgot to give this to you.”
He pulled out a piece of paper folded into a football, which reminded Levi of the paper football games guys used to play in high school to pass the time during detention. Gray didn’t strike Levi as the kind of guy who’d served detention—he was too busy dropping SAT words to impress girls who read Jane Austen—but for a couple of years, Levi and Emmitt had called it a second home.
“Aw. I’m touched. Are you asking me to prom?” Levi joked.
“You’re not my type. And it’s from Annie. When I told her I was coming here for takeout, she asked if I could deliver a note.”
He reached out his hand. “You can tell her the note was delivered.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for Beckett.” Gray held it up to the light, trying to read it. “And judging by the illegible scrawl, which I think is intended to be actual letters from the English alphabet, it appears Emmitt wrote it.”
“This is where you deliver it.”
Only Gray didn’t hand it over. He secured the note between his thumb and middle finger and twirled it.
“Seriously?” Levi asked.
Gray flicked the note. “Did I mention that Little Miss Dolittle took a seat in your section right as I was coming in? And she brought her A game.”
Levi’s heart gave a little bump to the ribs at the thought of just how good her A game would look seated at his counter. “I work the bar tonight. I don’t have a section.”
“I figured wherever she decided to sit would be your new section.” Another flick. “Annie attached a message for Beckett to the note. She got held up at work and won’t be able to make it tonight.” Gray held the note out. “Can you give her the note and message?”
“Why not just talk to her on your way out?”
“Because you look like you could use some help.”
“I’m doing just fine on my own.”
“That’s either stupid talking or the eternal optimist in you. The way I see it, neither one of them has a clue how to handle a woman like Beckett.”
