Page 48 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
I smiled because who didn’t like teasing a playful, mildly jealous sex god?
“Okay, well, Lou’s not nearly as good-looking as you are, but he has a way with pasta. Now, sit down before breakfast gets cold.”
I patted him on his tight behind in a primitive, possessive gesture of my own and received a purely masculine grunt in response.
Pouring him a cup of coffee, I slid that and a plate onto the counter in front of him, then sat down with my own. The past twenty-four hours had been amazing, but it was time to get back to life.
“Will you have time to run me back to the cottage before you go to work?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said casually. “Or you could stay here.”
As much as I liked the idea, things were moving quickly between us. Our connection was strong, but our relationship was too new—and held too much potential—to rush things. He might be settled and ready, but I needed my space and time to adjust from being “an island,” as he’d called it, to letting someone in.
I said as much because I wanted him to understand. Amazing man that he was, he did.
“Are you taking another day or going in to work tonight?” he asked.
“I’m going in. I’m not looking forward to the third degree I’m going to get though. Hopefully, we’ll be slammed, and they won’t be able to grill me.”
He looked at me with sympathy. “Do you really think that’s going to stop them?”
I exhaled. “No. I might have to hide in the basement. No one else likes going down there.”
“Because of Horace.”
I gaped at him. “You know about Horace?”
“Everyoneknows about Horace,” he told me, then switched lanes. “I was thinking about what you said last night. About hypnotherapy. There might be a simpler alternative.”
“Oh? What?”
He chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Have you considered talking to Jessie about it?”
“Why would I?”
“Jessie … knows things. Or sees things, I guess is a better way of putting it.”
“You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?” I asked.
“Don’t you?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure what I believe. I’m willing to accept that some people are more intuitive than others,” I said carefully, thinking of my guardian angel’s nudges. “Maybe she sensed something, but not even I know what happened that night. How could I expect her to?”
“I don’t pretend to understand it, but I do believe Jessie’s the real deal. Sometimes, when she touches another person or certain objects, she catches glimpses into their past or their future.”
“She told me once she’d had a vision that I was going to meet someone who would have a great impact on my life.” I paused. “It was the night that jerk grabbed my arm and you helped me.”
“Was she wrong?” he said, his lips quirking.
“No,” I admitted, smiling back at him. “But it was such a vague statement and open to interpretation. She didn’t mention you specifically or what the impact would be. Do you know how many people were in the inn that night? Maybe she just got lucky. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“You’re skeptical. I get it. I was too at first, but she’s been right too many times to dismiss it entirely.”
“How so?”
“My dad didn’t believe in going to the doctor unless he had to. Said there was no reason to if he was feeling fine. Then, Jessie bumped into my mother at the post office, went still, and told my mom in no uncertain terms to get my dad in to see Doc Harber for a complete physical as soon as possible. It freaked my mom out enough that she pestered my dad until he went. Turned out, he was in the beginning stages of prostate cancer. Because they caught it early enough, they were able to take care of it.”
“Might have been a coincidence,” I said.
