Читать книгу Last Chance At The Someday Café - Angel Smits - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

MORGAN STARED AT the menu, peering over it as two waitresses dragged a woman dressed in chef garb out of the kitchen. That was an interesting little display.

As soon as they let go of her arms, she turned through the diner doors, like the bird in the cuckoo clock his grandmother used to have.

Morgan smiled. He hadn’t thought about Gran in ages. She’d been the closest thing he and Jack had had to a real family. He missed her, wishing he could give Brooke someone special like that in her life.

The waitress who’d originally handed him the menu returned. “So, have you made up your mind?” The grin on her face said there had definitely been an inside joke involved with the chef coming through those swinging doors.

“Uh, yeah.” He ordered the Denver omelet, hoping it was as good as it sounded. He’d caught a whiff of several dishes that passed by and was already salivating.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, leave the chef in the kitchen to cook it, okay?” He winked at her, and she had the grace to blush even as she laughed.

“I think we can arrange that. Tara isn’t fond of coming out of her cave anyway.”

“Tara?”

“Yeah, the owner. And chef.” She nodded at the dining room behind him. “She bought this place and has been pushing us for a month to open this week.”

He glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “Just this week?” He was impressed. For a brand-new place, it was pretty busy. “Hopefully, nothing happened to Daisy.” He recalled the elderly woman who’d previously run the old diner.

“Nope. She’s alive and well.” Wendy refilled his cup. “Retirement will be good for her.”

He wondered if Daisy agreed with that. She’d always given him the impression she’d die before she’d retire.

“Let me put in your order.” The waitress stepped away and Morgan looked around again.

Even this early in the day, there was a crowd. He’d come here knowing Daisy had been a fixture in town her whole life. He’d hoped to ask if she’d seen Sylvie. Disappointment settled close. He wondered if there was any way to contact her.

It wasn’t long before his plate appeared, and the meal looked as good as it smelled. He glanced at the waitress. “Hey,” he said.

“Do you need something else?”

“No. Just a curious question. Who does the hiring here?”

“You looking for a job?” She looked hopeful, almost eager.

“Uh, no.” He laughed. “But I know someone who might.” Sylvie had been working as a waitress when they’d met. Did the fact that a new restaurant had appeared in town have anything to do with someone sighting her? Was she working here, maybe on another shift? He tried not to get his hopes up.

“That’d be Tara. Don’t know if we’re looking for anyone else, though.”

“If she has a minute, I’d like to chat with her.”

For the first time since she’d warmly greeted him, the girl looked reluctant. “I’ll see if she can break away.”

“No hurry.” He dug into the omelet and stifled a groan of pleasure. It tasted even better than it smelled or looked.

* * *

TARA KNEW HER staff meant well, but she needed to make them understand that she could not afford any distractions right now. Not with her track record. She busied herself putting the finishing touches on the lunch prep.

She’d nearly flunked out of high school because she’d thought boys were more important than homework. When Wyatt had caught her sneaking out of the house one night, it’d been the final straw. From then on, he’d made sure she didn’t go anywhere until her homework was done.

She’d resented him then, but now appreciated how hard that must have been for him. He’d been young and single, an older brother who took his responsibilities very seriously. Her behavior had probably put a serious cramp in his social life.

In college, she’d nearly screwed up again. She’d met Travis and thought he was “the one.” He’d been the one all right, the one for Cheryl and Lisa and Julie and who knew how many others. Looking back now, Tara wasn’t sure which had been worse—the distraction of the pursuit or the heartache afterward.

DJ had been the one to save her then, listening to all her wailing and tears, never once letting on that his baby sister was being a pain in the neck.

Even recently, she’d met that cute firefighter after the fire that had nearly destroyed the county. A hotshot on the crew that had come to town, he’d definitely turned her head. And turned right around and left as quickly as he’d come.

No, she didn’t have time to get involved with anyone. She couldn’t afford the distraction if she was going to make this place a success. And that man at the counter? Oh, yeah, he’d definitely be a distraction.

He already was, if her staff’s reaction to him was any indication.

“Hey, Tara.” Wendy came through the doors. “Our hunky customer wants to talk to you to see if we’re hiring.”

“What?” She whipped around, staring at Wendy, who nearly doubled over in laughter.

“I take it you wouldn’t want him working here?”

Dear Lord, that would be the end of her. “No. Certainly not.” Sweat broke out as she imagined the big man lumbering through the kitchen, brushing past her, easily lifting the heavy trays with those big, strong arms.

“Just tell him we’re not hiring.” She didn’t dare talk to him, not with those images swimming in her head.

“Sure you don’t want to take the time to visit?” Wendy moved close. “He’s even better looking up close. Nice green eyes.”

“Yeah, I’m sure his eyes are what you’re looking at.”

“Maybe.” Wendy headed toward the door. “Well, if you’re not going to take advantage, I’m certainly going to enjoy.”

“I’m too busy anyway. I’m off to the fair.” She tried to look nonchalant as she grabbed the bag of flyers and headed out. It wasn’t like she was running away or anything.

* * *

AFTER FINISHING HIS delicious breakfast, Morgan left to walk around town. He found himself looking at every person he passed with a suspicious eye. At every glimpse of purple, which was oddly frequent, he nearly gave himself whiplash trying to see if it was Brooke or Sylvie.

It never was.

He’d gone up and down the narrow main street three times. He was pushing his luck. He fought the urge to go into every store to question the staff. He had a faded picture, but from what little he’d gathered about Sylvie, she looked different than she used to.

Her blond hair was now dark, not brown or black, but blue apparently. Or it had been a couple months ago. He had no idea what color it was now.

She’d gotten tattoos and piercings, which, while they weren’t that odd these days, they weren’t something she’d had before. They disguised her, making her look nothing like the pictures he had of her. Would he even recognize her?

Was he ever going to find them?

He grabbed a soda from a street vendor and settled under a big cottonwood tree in the center of the park. Maybe if he sat here and watched he’d see something.

The sun moved slowly across the sky, and he fought the growing disappointment. Other than going door-to-door, what was he supposed to do? He glanced wistfully at the playground. Had Brooke ever played there? She’d always loved to swing.

If he hung out here, would he find her or just get himself arrested for stalking little kids? As a dad, he knew he’d be suspicious of some guy hanging out at a playground.

A woman came down the sidewalk, a big bag hanging off her shoulder, the sun glinting in her bright golden hair. The curls rippled in the breeze as she walked, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. She turned around, and for an instant, a flash of recognition shot through him. He didn’t know her, but she looked familiar. Where had he seen her before?

At the diner this morning. With her hair down, she looked different. She’d come and gone so quickly, he was surprised he recognized her now.

What had the waitress said her name was? Tina? No. Trudy? No, definitely not. Tara? That was it.

He watched her move. She went from booth to booth, looking at the items displayed, and, after she’d picked up something small and paid, she handed the clerk a piece of paper. A flyer? What was she doing? She moved easily through the crowd, passing out the flyers from her bag and sharing a smile with nearly everyone. Good advertising. He hoped it worked.

Just then, she looked at him. Their gazes met, held for an instant, then she looked away. Did she recognize him, too?

Something about the woman intrigued him. Rising, he followed her, her interactions amusing him. How long had the waitress said the restaurant had been open? A week? Before opening, had Tara been doing this? If she’d been running around glad-handing for the past month, especially during the busy weekends, had she seen Sylvie? Had she seen Brooke? His heart sped up, and so did he.

* * *

EVERY DAY, ESPECIALLY on the busy weekends and hopefully between the morning rush and lunch—before the day grew too unbearably hot—Tara planned to visit the street fair that was a staple in town.

Tara loved the fair and could easily spend the entire day shopping, as she had in years past with her sisters. Artists, jewelers, seamstresses and food vendors of all kinds sold their goods. But her purpose now was to advertise the café, not spend her meager profits.

She’d printed flyers with coupons and handed them out to the vendors and anyone who’d take one. It was working—already her staff said people had brought the flyers in.

Today was no different, and she made her way down the street, taking her time and doing a little shopping along the way.

She noticed that the hunk from the diner this morning was sitting under the cottonwoods in the park. Those broad shoulders made the massive trunk of the old tree actually look small. One leg stretched out across the grass, and he’d bent one knee to rest his forearm on. The soda can looked minuscule in his big hand.

He looked up then, catching her watching him. She glanced away, feeling her cheeks warm. She moved on to the next stall.

Visitors and locals mingled in the square, and it was the perfect place to spread the word about her café. She’d actually toyed with the idea of renting one of the outdoor booths to give away food samples.

But she couldn’t afford to be away from the café for the entire day, and neither could any of the staff. Not yet anyway.

Maybe she should give Mr. Hunk a coupon to get him to return. That would make her staff—especially Wendy—happy. And that was the only reason it crossed her mind, she told herself.

Really.

Glancing over at the trees, she realized he’d left and before she could stop herself, she scanned around, wondering where he’d gone. She didn’t see him. Why did that realization dim the bright day? Shaking her head, she dismissed the man and her silly thoughts.

“Hey, Dave,” she greeted the older man who made beautiful tin sculptures. She’d already commissioned one of a squirrel in a chef hat to go in the entry of the diner. “How’s Mr. Squirrel coming?”

“Looking good. I’ll be done early, I think.”

“Great.” He’d already sent business her way, and she left another stack of flyers.

With similar interactions, she moved along the line, realizing how many of these people she’d come to know and now considered friends.

Halfway down the block, she stopped at the T-shirt vendor and recalled the woman who’d come in to apply for a waitress job, the one who’d insulted her, unintentionally, but the woman’s rudeness still stuck in Tara’s mind. Relieved the woman wasn’t there, she was glad to find a man behind the wide table.

She didn’t remember seeing him before. Was folding something people who sold T-shirts did in their sleep? They always seemed to be doing it.

“Hello,” she greeted him with a smile. He looked up, but rather than smiling, he frowned, then seemed to force his lips into a stiff grin.

“Hi!” She tried again. He kept folding.

“Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to ring up.” He moved to sit in a chair beside an ancient cash register. He picked up a magazine and focused on it, ignoring her.

“I’d like to introduce myself,” she said. He looked up and fake-smiled again.

“Yeah, I know who you are. You bought the diner from Daisy.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I ain’t giving out any of yer flyers,” he grumbled. “It’s hard enough makin’ a livin’ doing my own business.” He went back to his magazine. “You wanna buy something?”

She stared at him, surprised. Not now, she didn’t. Everyone else was very open and helpful, friendly. What was wrong with this guy?

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She wasn’t giving up. “I’m offering a discount. If nothing else, you and your family might enjoy coming by for a meal.” Did she really say that without gritting her teeth? She was fairly impressed with herself.

“No, thanks.”

“You haven’t even tried.”

“Lady makes a mean omelet,” another voice said beside her, and Tara turned to see The Hunk standing there, pawing at T-shirts. He wasn’t even looking at the T-shirts he was unfolding. He was looking at her instead. And smiling. Another T-shirt returned to the pile, rumpled and unviewed.

“You want to buy something?” The man behind the counter looked up from the magazine only long enough to glare at the growing pile of messy shirts.

“Not sure yet.” Hunk continued to smile, his expression more mischief than mirth. “I’ll let you know.”

She couldn’t ignore him. He’d complimented her, for one thing. “Glad you enjoyed your meal. I hope you’ll return.”

“Plan to.” He faced her, leaving the T-shirts for the other man to refold. “I’m Morgan Thane.” He stuck out a hand, a beefy hand that matched the rest of him, muscular, strong and intimidating. A total contradiction to the smile on his face and the curiosity in his eyes. “My truck is parked in your back lot. Hope that’s okay.”

She took a step away, reluctant to touch him. “Tara Hawkins.” She didn’t want to be rude, so she finally took his hand, feeling her fingers engulfed but thankfully not crushed. His palm was rough and warm.

Wendy was right. His eyes were green—a deep, dark green. Like the underside of those cottonwood leaves he’d been sitting beneath. This is ridiculous. Tara forced herself to slip her hand from his. “You’re welcome to park there, yes. Daisy said lots of truckers come by. Are...are you here job hunting, Mr. Thane?” That didn’t make sense, unless he was tired of driving truck. “Or just here to mess up the displays?”

“Uh—no?” He looked puzzled, then glanced at the piles of T-shirts and laughed. “I’m just keeping him on his toes.” His expression faded and grew distant. “You ignore a business and it’ll fail. Miserably.” He tilted his head toward the man still focused on his magazine instead of them. “I see it as doing him a favor.”

“Uh-huh.” Somehow that didn’t totally ring true, though it did make sense. “My waitress said you were asking about hiring.” Yes. Keep this on a business level.

His eyes widened and he stepped closer. “Oh, yeah. No, I’m actually, uh, looking for a friend.” Even in the middle of the day’s heat, his body’s warmth reached out to her.

“Does your friend have experience as a cook or a waitress?” She might not need anyone now, but she knew turnover would be an issue. It always was in the food industry.

He stared at her, and Tara struggled to keep from falling under the spell of those eyes.

“Actually, yeah. I was wondering if she’d already applied.”

Why did he look around then, as if someone might be watching them? Something seemed off, and she frowned.

A group of girls came over to the table then and the distracted clerk hurried over, busying himself refolding the shirts Morgan had messed up.

Morgan looked at the man and gently grabbed Tara’s elbow to guide her away from the table. She barely resisted the urge to pull her arm from his grasp, but before she could, he let her go.

“Did anyone named Sylvie come in and apply?”

Surprised, Tara stared at him. “Uh, yes. Why?” She was a friend of his? What kind of friend? She mentally rolled her eyes. What business of hers was it? What did it matter? But somehow it did.

“When?” The urgency in his voice startled her. He looked ready to pounce. “When did you last see her?” His words came out in a rush.

“It’s been almost a month ago. That was the only time I’ve ever seen her. I don’t know her.” She wasn’t really someone Tara could see herself being friends with, that’s for sure.

His expression fell, and she saw the disappointment cover his face. “Damn.”

“What’s going on?”

He paced, running his fingers over his close-cropped hair, as if forgetting he didn’t have long hair to shove them through. She watched that big hand, fascinated.

“I’ve been looking for her for some time and every time I get close, I miss her.”

“What do you mean, miss her?”

“Hey, do you work here?” One of the girls who had been looking at the T-shirts came over to them.

“Uh, no.” Tara frowned, looking around for the man who’d been behind the table. “He was here a minute ago.”

“There isn’t anyone.” The girl actually pouted. “Darn, I wanted this one.” She held up a black T-shirt with a ghastly skeleton on it. Maybe it was a blessing the man wasn’t here.

“Morgan did you see...?” She turned to find Morgan gone. In the distance, just this side of the park, she saw him jogging down an alley that led away from the street fair. The T-shirt salesman was a short distance ahead of him, hurrying away.