Читать книгу The Perfect Catch - Cassidy Carter - Страница 4

Chapter 1

“Order up, Jess!”

The call from the kitchen jolted Jessica Parker from her lovely, distracting daydreams. She tore her gaze from the dessert display that she’d been lazily spinning, where the day’s featured sweets made slow, endless rounds—just like Jessica’s life had lately. She surveyed the almost empty diner and then found herself glancing outside to see an equally barren sidewalk. She sighed. There weren’t even any patrons on their way in.

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Framed by the plate glass window, Parker Falls, Ohio didn’t exactly buzz with activity, either. Sure, it had a certain small-town charm—tree-lined streets, the spinning merry-go-round in the park, the sprinkler just outside making a perfectly timed circuit in its quest to keep the grass picturesquely green—but small-town charm wasn’t translating to the rush of business that Wesley’s Hometown Diner needed right now, and it certainly wasn’t inspiring Jess to do much more than daydream.

Jess shook herself and turned, heading across the floor of the diner. She passed her fellow waitress, Nina, coming from the kitchen with an order balanced on her arm. Jess pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door and hustled inside. She scooped two plates up from the pass-through as Cal slid them in, and then frowned at the contents with a look of confusion.

“Blue plate and a hot dog?” Jessica said with a laugh. “Didn’t I put in a grilled cheese and a wedge salad, Cal?” There were only a few occupied tables in the whole place. Had she bumbled the order?

Cal, her faithful cook, shrugged and shook his head. “Take one guess.”

Suddenly realizing what must have happened to her table’s food, Jessica turned and weaved through the diner, bemused. Despite the mere trickle of business and the myriad concerns that were piling up lately with the day-to-day operations of the diner, Jess found herself smiling as she moved through the restaurant, balancing the plates on one arm as she paused to right a tilted old photo on the wall. Just before easing up behind Nina, she flashed an even brighter smile at a customer. Jess saw Nina squinting, paused near a table of customers. The order for Jess’s table was balanced precariously on the arm of the other waitress, and Nina was using her free hand to adjust her glasses.

Jessica moved next to Nina and whispered, “Nina, hon. Wrong table.” Nina, with a huff, allowed herself to be gently turned ninety degrees toward a different table nearby, where she delivered Jess’s pilfered grilled cheese and salad.

“Here ya go,” Nina said brightly, though Jess knew that her normally bubbly, blonde friend was putting on most of the cheer—Nina seemed exasperated. Jess’s missing order delivered, the two women moved to the counter beside the cash register. Nina huffed and took off the trendy, thick-rimmed glasses she wore, frowning as she tried peering through the lenses.

“Oh my gosh. How embarrassing. I just got a new prescription, and it’s driving me nuts,” Nina said, looking apologetically at Jess.

Nina had worked for Jess since Jess had taken the diner over. Best friends since cheer squad in middle school, they’d been through a lot worse together than a simple pair of wonky eyeglasses. Jess was grateful that Nina was such a constant in her life. Growing up in Parker Falls, a town named after Jessica’s great-great everyone, had sometimes been more of a stumbling block for Jess than a boon.

Besides that, it was good to have someone to talk with every day—Cal, their cook, was in his sixties, and many of their regulars were the type who ate dinner at 3:00 p.m. Now in her thirties, Jess wasn’t quite ready to give up girl talk for tips on golf or reminiscing about the good ol’ days of Parker Falls, back before they’d gotten cell towers and internet.

Jessica put a reassuring hand on her friend’s arm and said, “No worries, Nina. I got your back.”

Nina smiled gratefully. Jess glanced at the antique clock on the wall and realized that her son should have come back from school by now. She shuffled the plates in her own hands, suddenly worried. Single parenting—or is it professional juggling?—at its finest.

“Hey, can you take these to table six?” she asked. With an apprehensive look, Nina nodded and relieved Jessica of the two plates. Jess pointed, and Nina set off in the general direction of table six. Jess hoped that Nina would make it without incident.

Jess pulled her order pad out of her apron, ignored the numbers she’d previously scribbled on it—the ever-increasing amounts of the diner’s utility bills—and jotted down a quick grocery list so she wouldn’t forget to stop for milk and eggs on the way home. She was just about to pick up the old-fashioned rotary phone by the register when a customer called from behind her.

“Excuse me, please,” a voice said. “But I’m waiting?”

Jessica turned to see Wesley climb up on a stool and settle in at the counter. With his sleeves rolled up and his contrasting T-shirt peeking out from his unbuttoned collar, her son was the epitome of eight-year-old cool. He shuffled off the weight of his wide-strapped backpack and straightened his plaid shirt. She heard the sound of a school bus pulling away outside.

Jessica fawned dramatically. “I am so sorry, sir.” She paused and feigned contriteness. “What can I get for you?”

Wesley said, “Double burger with fries, extra pickles, cupcakes, and a mega-gulp soda.” His tone was hopeful.

If he ate all that junk, he’d be sick to his stomach. Thankfully, this was one parenting call where she didn’t have to be the bad guy. Gratefully, Jessica thanked her late grandfather and passed the buck.

“You know our policy, sir. If it’s not on the menu, it’s not on the plate,” she said.

Wesley hammed up his look of defeat. “But you run the place.”

Jessica nodded to a line of photos that hung on the wall, a shrine to the diner’s storied past. Among them was a picture of her grandfather, who’d started the diner and given the place its name—and who’d been her son’s namesake, as well.

Jessica said, “Sorry. It was always my grandpa’s rule, and if it was good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.”

Wesley rolled his eyes. “Aw, Mom.”

Jessica grinned and ruffled his dark hair. She was often struck by how much he resembled his father. Feeling a pang of something she’d rather not dwell too long on, she gave Wesley a kiss as he unzipped his backpack, which rested on the counter, and drew out a schoolbook. He opened the book and began leafing through it to find his place.

Jessica asked, “How was school, honey? Did my graham cracker flashcards help?”

Wesley rummaged in the backpack again, sliding out his lunchbox and opening it. He carefully took out a stack of graham crackers with numbers written on them in white icing. He picked up a simple addition problem and crunched into it.

“Well,” Wesley said, wiping icing off of his lips with the back of his hand, “I aced my math test!”

“Yeah? Great job! How about we celebrate with milk and more flashcards?”

At one end of the diner, Jess spotted Nina eyeing the TV. Was she trying to focus on what was airing? Wasn’t that something you were supposed to do in order to get used to a new eyeglass prescription—or was the trick to read with them?

Nina called, “Don’t look now, Jess, but your ex is on TV again.”

Jessica turned from the counter. Her mind briefly flashed to Wesley’s dad, but when she looked, a baseball game was playing on the small television that perched on a ledge above the well-worn booths of Wesley’s.

Oh. That ex.

Jessica tried to keep her voice light as she said, “Chase? I don’t think a high school boyfriend qualifies as an ex.” He barely qualified as a boyfriend. She surprised herself with the hint of bitterness she felt. But the smile on her face stayed firmly in place as she continued. “Wesley’s dad is ‘ex’ enough.”

Nina pushed her glasses down the bridge of her nose and stepped closer to the TV. Looking over the top of her new frames, she said, “Look, they’re replaying Chase’s clip from the seventh game again. It never gets old.” Though Nina seemed glued to the dramatic scene that was unfolding and a little zoned out as she gaped at the television, the sympathy was clear in her voice.

The news clip replayed on the diner’s TV. Chase Taynor, still as handsome in his thirties as he had been during their senior year of high school, threw a pitch that didn’t strike out the batter at the plate but instead resulted in a grand slam home run. Jess hadn’t been watching the live game, but when she’d caught the clip on the news the night after the incident, she’d sworn the whole city of Boston had let out a collective moan.

The TV reporter said, “Boston was in mourning last fall after losing the seventh game of the series, with many blaming pitcher Chase Taynor for the defeat. Once a star on the mound, Taynor is now a man without a team, and many are wondering if anyone will pick up his contract with just two weeks before the new season starts.”

Jessica studied Chase’s serious face, not missing the defeat that flashed across his sharp, striking features. The report cut to a clip of Chase swarmed by media, trying to shield his face. A stunning woman with beautiful, flowing hair hung on his arm, looking more like a luxury accessory than a girlfriend. Jess couldn’t help feeling a small pang of jealousy. She hoped it didn’t show in her expression.

When she pulled her gaze away from the screen, she found Nina studying her. If Nina noticed Jess’s discomfort, she let it slide.

“I feel bad for the guy,” Nina said, looking back at the TV.

“Oh, come on,” Jess sputtered, hoping that Nina hadn’t caught on to her. Jess didn’t want to talk about Chase when the diner got too slow to do anything but gossip—and those times were frequent lately. “Must hurt to be taken down a few notches, especially for that ego.”

The crowd of press on TV swarmed Chase, shouting his name. A female sports reporter said, “Chase! Just a few questions! Have you gotten over giving up the grand slam in game seven of the series?”

“Yeah,” Chase said. “My apologies go out to the fans and my teammates, but I’ve got a short memory. I’m already thinking about next season.” He was always so cool, Jess thought. More like his dad than he would ever admit—a man of few words.

Cal, who had come out of the kitchen, chuckled as he wiped his hands clean on a bar towel. “Wow,” he said, pointing to the news. “Miss Supermodel sure doesn’t look too happy.”

Supermodel? Was that why the stunner looked so familiar? Of course. He’s a hotshot pro athlete—it’d be stereotypical that he’d have a supermodel girlfriend.

On TV, Chase and the woman quickened their pace, trying to make it out of the crowd of paparazzi. The reporter who he’d just spoken to was undeterred. She fired off a final query. “Are you worried about contract negotiations?”

Chase stopped, his brow furrowing. This was no easy question, and it seemed like one he didn’t have a neatly prepared, glib response for. He paused before he responded, looking directly into the camera. “Hey, not a bit. It’s all part of the game.”

Jess knew that look. It was the same exact one that had been on his face when he’d told her, We need to talk. I have to tell you something, all those years ago. She remembered the conversation well, despite the time that had passed. He’d been itching to escape their small town and go off to the big show, ready to cut ties and leave her behind.

You could have gone with him, something in her whispered. Onscreen, Chase was still struggling to get free of the swarm.

Nina said, “Wow, the media is still really hounding him.”

Jess nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I know.”

The crush of people surrounding Chase pressed in. The TV reporter got jostled in the pack and stumbled. Chase caught her with a powerful arm.

The supermodel didn’t seem impressed with Chase’s chivalry. She looked as if she’d just eaten a slice of lemon pie—minus the sugar.

“Careful there,” Chase said to the reporter. The reporter fixed him with a huge, beaming smile. Chase smiled back at the woman as she regained her balance.

Yep, Jess thought, he definitely still has it.

“Chase always did love the spotlight,” Jess said. Glancing over at her son, she didn’t miss how Wes was also glued to the coverage of one of his favorite sports heroes.

“Okay, guys, no more questions.” Chase was able, somehow, to exit gracefully from the throng of press.

Nina leered at the screen a little. “He still looks great.”

Jessica shook her head, wondering why she was giving old-news Chase Taynor any headspace when she should be worried about the slump in the diner’s business. She surveyed the near-empty place.

“Empty restaurant, staff glued to the TV.” No one seemed to hear her except Wes. She smiled at him, pointing to his lunchbox and backpack. “Wesley, hon, let’s get that order of milk to go. Come on. Time for baseball practice.”

Wesley gathered his things, Jessica tossed off her apron, and the pair of them strolled out of the diner, leaving Cal to watch the rest of the news and Nina still fiddling with her wonky new glasses. Once outside, they headed to their car, which Jess knew had seen better days. Wesley pointed to a colorful sign announcing the upcoming Spring Fling festival.

“Hey, Mom, look! That’s a new sign. We should drive around town and see where else they put them up.”

Jess narrowed her eyes at him. “That has been up all week.”

Wesley said, “Are you sure it’s okay for you to leave early?” He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the diner. There could have been a mad afternoon stampede for pie and coffee, and it still wouldn’t have convinced Jess that Wes’s real concern was for the employees who were holding down the fort while they went to practice.

Jessica shrugged. “Like you said, I own the place.”

“Great! How about some laser tag? There’s that new place that opened up off the highway.”

She shook her head. Not this again. “How about baseball practice and then homework time?”

“But, Mom, I can’t practice today.”

She opened his car door, and he climbed into the passenger’s seat, buckling his seatbelt with a huff.

Jessica said tenderly, “And what is it this time?”

Wesley said, “Batter’s elbow?”

She clicked her tongue reproachfully. “I may not know baseball, kiddo, but I know that isn’t a thing. Let’s go.”

Maybe Wes wasn’t thrilled about practice because she wasn’t exactly the best coach. She was doing her best, but sports weren’t her forte. Chase Taynor may be losing sleep over his future big-league contracts, but all Jessica was worried about was helping Wesley learn how to actually hit a ball.