Page 4 of Wild Hope
I set the drinks down at the table and collect the empty glasses.
Both the evening shifts I’ve worked have been like this. I’m happy for my brother that the place is so busy. Business is good for him and the club.
I’m on my way back to the bar with the tray of glasses when Travis saunters in. My feet stumble, and water sloshes over the side of one glass. I catch myself before the entire tray goes down.
Damn, that man can still make me lose my balance.
I thought six years might have dulled my feelings, but when I saw him sitting at the bar this afternoon, his biker jacket on, a layer of messy stubble over his strong jaw, and silver flecked through his hair, my heartbeat went up several notches and it hasn’t come back down. Now my palms are sweaty, and I’m having trouble concentrating on my tables.
I thought my girly crush on my brother’s best friend might have dulled, but nope. It’s turned from a girly crush to a womanly longing. One look at Travis’s broad shoulders and tight white t-shirt and there’s damp heat between my legs and my nipples are tingling.
Too bad he’s not interested.
My hair falls across my face, and I curse myself for the pink streaks I’ve had for the last few years. I thought it looked edgy and cool, but to a man like Travis it probably shows how young I still am. His hair is peppered with silver, and there are crinkles at the sides of his eyes. He’s the kind of man that needs a woman, not a too-chunky girl playing dress up.
“Excuse me. Can I get some ketchup?”
The woman’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to her. “Sure.” I give her my best smile. “I’ll bring it right over.”
I deposit the glasses at the bar and grab a bottle of ketchup to take back to the lady.
“Food’s up for table eleven,” the slight girl in the kitchen calls.
I give the lady her ketchup and head over to the serving hatch. As I walk past the bar, the skin on the back of my neck prickles. Glancing up, I catch Travis watching me. His dark eyes dart up from my butt, and he looks away.
Did I just catch him checking me out?
All kinds of heat courses through my body, and I wipe my palms on my apron as I get to the serving hatch.
“Someone can’t take their eyes off you.” Maggie waggles her eyebrows, and I glance back to see Travis staring at me again.
“He’s been watching you all night,” Maggie whispers. “Again.”
Her mousy brown hair is pinned up under a chef’s hat, showing off her round face dusted in freckles. I met Maggie when I arrived yesterday and liked her immediately. She’s supposed to be a cook but has been helping anyway she can in the kitchen. She’s quiet but observant and will be one hell of a chef one day.
I don’t know where my brother found her, but she’s so petite she looks like a kid working in the kitchen.
“I’ve known Travis for years,” I say, trying to brush it off. “He’s just being friendly.”
“Un-huh,” she says with a knowing smile.
The plates are slippery in my sweaty palms, and my feet seem to have trouble walking. I wish Travis would disappear into the back office so I could get on with waitressing without feeling like my knees are about to give way.
I deliver the food to table eleven. There are a bunch of empty glasses and I clear them off the table, holding the tray over my head and maneuvering through the crowded restaurant to get back to the bar.
Arlo, the bartender, is preparing a sampling board for table thirteen. They’re a bunch of hipsters who must be staying at the ski lodge judging by the way they’re dressed. They’re the only ones here whose flannel shirts look freshly pressed and whose beards are neatly trimmed.
I shake my head to myself, marveling at what a good thing my brother has going on here. The brewery provides decent beer for the locals and craft beer for visiting hipsters just like these.
I scoot around the side of the bar with my tray of glasses, thinking I’ll put them in the dishwasher since Arlo is busy.
I don’t notice Travis until I get around behind the bar. He’s crouched down restocking the fridge. He stands up abruptly, and I run straight into the solid muscles of his chest. My feet stumble, my breath leaves my chest, and this time there’s no saving the glasses.
The tray goes down. Glass shatters everywhere. The smashing sound silences the restaurant, and all heads turn to me.
There’s a moment of utter silence. Then someone claps and the restaurant cheers, and everyone goes back to eating.
“I’m so sorry.”
