Page 10 of Wild Curves
Softened by his daughter, Snips gives a long sigh. “Yeah, turns out Karen had a sister. She’s threatening to get custody.”
With his free hand, he expertly grabs a container of sandwiches and hands them to the baby.
Three months ago, the shock of being an instant dad had him reeling. Now he’d do anything for his little girl.
“They can’t take her away from you, can they?”
He sighs. “Trying to say because I wasn’t there for the first year of her life that she’s better with the sister.”
There’s pain in his voice, and I feel for the man.
“Where was this sister when Bailey’s mother died?”
“Good point. Social services have been cagey. They won’t give out details, but there’s got to be some reason why she didn’t step in at first. I didn’t even know Bailey existed. I would have been none the wiser.”
He pulls her close as if the thought makes him hurt.
“If you need anything, just ask, okay?”
“Thanks, man. I already got Trish and Danni babysitting a few days a week. I’m working reduced hours here, so we’re managing.”
There’re dark circles under his eyes, and I wonder how well he really is managing. I make a note to bring it up with Prez and see if there’s anything the club can do. I leave him with his daughter while I head across the mountain to Hope in search of a new outfit to wear this weekend.
5
MAGGIE
Friday comes around too soon. It’s a busy lunch shift with a tour group in, and my palms are sweaty as I drizzle the chocolate sauce over the fudge cake under Patrick’s watchful gaze.
“Lift the dish high to get the drizzle thin at the edges of the plate.” Patrick indicates what he means and I lift the dish up, pleased to see him smile as the sauce makes a zig zag pattern around the edges of the plate.
He’s the best pastry chef I’ve worked for, and even though I’m meant to help out everywhere in the kitchen, Chef lets me help Patrick as much as I can.
We’re almost at the end of the service when I hear her. You can’t not hear my mother. Her booming voice penetrates the kitchen doors and makes my hands tremble so much that I drop the dish of sauce and it clatters to the floor.
“Never mind,” says Patrick as I duck to pick up the pieces. “That’s the last one for this service anyway.”
I dump the broken pieces in the trash and peek through the round window to the restaurant. Sure enough, there’s Mom, her brown hair perfectly coiffed with so much hairspray even a strong mountain wind couldn’t move it. Dad stands quietly behind her, his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his feet, admiring the vintage bike on display in the corner.
Mom’s chatting with someone at the bar, and my pulse spikes thinking it must be Arlo. I tilt my head to see more through the window and frown when I see Davis behind the bar. Davis is one of the prospects and he looks terrified as mom talks at him, probably telling him about all about their journey here and complaining about the traffic.
Arlo was supposed to be working so I could briefly introduce him to my parents and then keep them out of his way for the rest of the weekend.
Maybe he’s coming in later for the evening shift. Whatever it is, I need to get out there so I can control the situation.
“My parents are here.” I take my apron off and hang it up before smoothing down my hair. Chef said it was okay to leave early once my parents turned up so they could have lunch at the restaurant before the service finishes.
Dad sees me first.
“Hello love.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek. We share a warm look before Mom turns around.
“What happened to your hair?”
Her look of horror has me ducking my head and smoothing down my hair. It’s flat where my chef’s hat was, but the way Mom’s looking at it, I may as well have dyed it purple.
“It’s just where the hat…”
“I’ve got spray in my bag.” She takes me by the elbow and leads me to the side of the bar near the corridor that leads to the back entrance. There’s no point resisting.
