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Chapter Twelve
Tess
* * *
“How’s the coconut cream pie?” a customer asks me, looking over from the menu.
“I’ve never heard a complaint. The owner makes them fresh every morning.”
She nods and closes the menu. “I’m going with the cheese fries and a piece of that pie. It’s been a day.”
“I’m sorry.” I give her a sympathetic look. “I’ll bring you some more sweet tea, too.”
“Thanks.”
She opens a paperback and starts reading. I love it when women come here alone and spend time reading, working crosswords or texting with a friend. We’re conditioned to be with people all the time, and there’s often no time left to just be by ourselves.
Cam and I are on different sleep schedules; she’s always up studying until around eleven and I go to bed around nine thirty because my five a.m. wake-up time is no joke. In theory, I could read or watch a show before falling asleep, but I’m usually too tired.
“We’re out of chili,” Deb says as I walk behind the counter, a coffeepot in one of her hands and a piece of pie in the other.
“Already?”
She scowls. “Don’t get me started. The new girl burned up an entire batch. Ruined the pan and the chili.”
Shaking my head, I put my orders in the queue, get my customer another sweet tea and greet the table of four men in suits who just sat down in my section.
“What can I get you to drink?”
One of them stares directly at my breasts as the others order. The guy next to him nudges his shoulder when it’s his turn.
“Oh, uh...lemonade, I guess.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes. I’m wearing a black V-neck shirt that isn’t even all that revealing. But men are men, so who’s surprised?
I’m trying hard to be cautious about Dom, but it was a lot easier before that kiss. Before, he was someone teaching my son a few things and we were all on friendly terms. Something shifted for me, though, and if I’m being honest, it wasn’t when he asked me out but when he fixed my toilet emergency.
He didn’t have to do that. He didn’t have to call in help from his teammates and save my bathroom floor when I was about to melt down, but he did. It was the first time anyone other than me or Cam has solved a problem in our household.
He got us a new screen door and fixed our dryer, too. I’ve never been a woman who wanted to be wined and dined, but a man who jumps in to help me with actual, everyday problems without being asked? I can’t deny how sexy that is to me.
Because of him, we’re no longer hanging laundry for six people on makeshift clotheslines. That means more to me than any fancy dinner date ever could.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
I shift my focus from thoughts of Dom to the customer calling out to me as I pass her table. It’s not one of mine, but I still go back to see what she needs.
“I asked for no onion on my patty melt and it has onions.”
I pick up her plate. “Sorry about that. I’ll have them make you a new one right away.”
“Thanks.”
My phone buzzes with a text in my pocket and I take it out, glancing at the screen to make sure it’s not an emergency about one of the kids. It’s another picture message from Cam.
I shove the phone back in my pocket and continue on to the kitchen. She won’t stop sending me outfit ideas for my date with Dom.
No matter how many times I tell her I’m wearing jeans and whatever shirt I happen to pick out that day, she keeps sending me pictures of jeans and sweaters, skirts and sweaters, dresses and jean jackets, and even leather pants and suggested tops.
