Page 9 of Winter at Wishington Bay
He handed the machine back to me. ‘Then please unskip it.’
‘You don’t have to. Like I said, Ned’s all about—’
‘Family. I know. But you and I are not family and I’d like to tip you.’
I reluctantly pressed a couple of buttons and took the programme back to the required screen, then handed it back. Nate took it without looking at me, pressing buttons when prompted.
‘I don’t know a lot about waiting tables but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to put customers off trying to tip you.’
He handed the machine back and this time met my gaze with a direct one of his own.
‘I don’t… usually.’
‘I don’t want anyone going to extra trouble.’
I shrugged. ‘Too bad. I’m afraid you don’t get a say in that.’
He shook his head and made a sound that might have been a laugh. ‘Is that so?’
‘Yes. It’s all been agreed.’
‘I see.’
The machine churned out the receipt and I tore it off and handed his copy to him. ‘Thank you.’ I gestured to the copy I held. ‘And you shouldn’t have done, really.’ The tip Nate had put on was way more than generous.
‘Yes,’ he said, softly. ‘I should.’
I smiled and felt that traitorous blush begin to creep.
5
‘So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?’ I asked, handing him the expensive cashmere overcoat he pointed to on the rack and trying not to notice just how nicely it fitted his broad shoulders. ‘More writing?’
‘Yep,’ he said, pulling the collar up against the weather and layering a scarf before pulling out a pair of what looked to be buttery soft, dark brown leather gloves. ‘I’ll get Bryan out for another scoot about the beach before it gets dark and then crack on with the book.’
‘How’s it going?’
He shrugged. I waited for more but it quickly became apparent that that was the full extent of his answer. I pondered on whether to say what was in my head. Nate did the head tilt.
‘What is it?’
‘How do you do that?’
‘You’re pretty easy to read.’
‘I am not. I’ve had a lifetime of training to prevent that!’
Oh. Bugger.
‘Really?’ he asked, interest in his tone.
‘Obviously it didn’t work!’ I laughed, but even to my own ears, it sounded a little off. ‘Anyway,’ I said, still unsure whether to wade in, but desperate to change the subject. ‘I was just going to suggest that you might want to take it easy this afternoon. Maybe.’
‘Do you advise that to all your clientele?’
‘Only those who look like they might fall face first into their warm chocolate pudding.’
Nate dragged a hand across his jaw. ‘That obvious, eh?’
